Ji 


(7. 


r^ 


NEW  NOVELS 

BY 

MANSFIELD   TKACY  WALWORTH. 


I.  —  "WARWICK. 
II.  —  HOTSPUR. 

III.  —  LULU. 

IV.  —  STORMCLIPP. 

v.  —  DKLAPLAINE.     (Jwt  Published. ) 


All  published  uniform  with  this  volume,  sold  everywhere,  and  sent  by  m  til 
postage  free,  on  receipt  of  price,  §1.75, 

BY 

G.  W.  CARXETON   &  CO.,  Publishers, 
New  Vork. 


STOEMCLIFF. 


21  ftale  0f 


BT 

MANSFIELD    T.    WALWOBTH, 

AUTHOR  OF  "  HOTSPUR,"  "  LULTT,"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK: 

G.  W.  Carleton  fc?  Co.,  Publishers. 

LONDON:    S.   LOW,   SON  &  CO. 
M.DCCC.LXXI. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  1866, 
BY  GEO.  W.  CARLETON, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District,  of  New  York, 


NEW  YORK. 


f&ljis  Sook 

IS  RESPECTFULLY  DEDICATED  TO 

JAMES  LORIMER  GRAHAM,  Jr., 

THE  WARM   FRIEND  AND  PATRON  OF  THE 

AUTHORS,     ARTISTS,     AND     LITERARY     MEN    OF     THE     METROPOLIS, 
BY   HIS  FRIEND, 

THE    AUTHOR. 


2052384 


STORMCLIFF. 


CHAPTER  I. 

AGAINST  a  cliff  of  the  highlands  of  the  Hudson  a  man  was 
clinging.  He  had  paused  in  his  arduous  ascent  of  the  moun 
tain  to  rest,  and  now  clung,  panting  and  trembling  from 
exertion,  to  the  face  of  the  rock,  with  his  hands  clutched 
firmly  about  a  bush  which  grew  from  a  crevice.  He  had  a 
foothold  in  the  rocky  wall  for  one  foot  only.  If  the  roots  of 
the  frail  bush  should  yield  to  his  weight,  and  draw  out  from 
the  crevice,  he  would  fall  a  thousand  feet — into  eternity.  His 
purpose  savored  of  madness.  If  he  could  reach  the  summit  of 
that  fearful  wall,  he  would  stand  where  mortal  feet  had  never 
stood  before :  an  empire  of  beauty  and  grandeur  for  the  eye 
would  be  his  own.  He  feared  to  look  downwards  over  the 
route  he  had  climbed.  There  was  dizziness  and  ruin  in  the 
very  thought.  But  a  nobler  and  less  hazardous  view  stretched 
away  to  the  southward ;  and  as  his  eye  glanced  along  the 
mountain  wall,  he  discovered,  miles  away,  a  bend  of  the 
Hudson,  blue  and  calm — a  sleeping  lake  sentinelled  by  the 
mountains. 

But  the  bold  climber  cared  not  for  the  immense  territory 
of  woods  and  water  and  Castellated  hills  beneath  him.  He 
was  pausing  against  the  cliff  for  rest,  not  scenery.  He  was 
determined  to  win  the  mountain-top  before  sunset,  and  love 
of  the  beautiful  was  not  his  motive  power.  At  length  his 
panting  bosom  became  still,  his  heavy  breathing  ceased,  and 
muscle  came  again  to  the  assistance  of  will.  The  strong 
manly  arms,  which  never  yet  had  struck  a  blow  for  injustice 


8  STOEMCL1FF. 

or  wrong,  reached  convulsively  upwards  for  fresh  twigs  and 
rockholds  for  the  hands  and  feet.  Slowly  and  carefully  and 
tediously  he  toiled  upwards,  till  at  length  from  the  base  of 
the  cliff  he  would  have  appeared  like  a  pigmy  to  any  chance 
wanderer  in  that  mighty  solitude  of  the  eternal  hills.  When 
-he  stood  at  the  base  of  the  rocky  wall,  and  raised  his  eyes 
heavenwards  to  calculate  the  chances  of  the  daring  feat,  he 
was  as  attractive  a  picture  of  neat  and  muscular  manhood  as 
the  eye  ever  meets  outside  of  the  artist's  canvas  and  the 
sculptor's  marble.  But  now  clinging  to  that  awful  height, 
like  a  doomed  soul,  with  his  strength  well-nigh  exhausted, 
he  had  lost  symmetry  and  beauty  of  person,  and  was  bruised 
and  blood-stained  from  his  fierce  grapple  with  the  rocks. 
His  garments  were  torn  and  dust-covered,  and  the  heavy 
luxuriance  of  his  dark  hair  was  matted  with  the  mosses 
which  had  brushed  from  the  rocks,  where  he  had  nearly  lost 
his  slippery  hold  for  ever. 

The  will  to  attain  the  summit  of  the  cliff  was  not  impaired 
by  the  severe  toil  of  his  ascent.  When  his  hat  brushed  from 
his  head,  and  fell  away  into  the  yawning  gulf  beneath  him, 
he  smiled  a  bitter  smile,  then  clung  by  one  hand,  and  with 
the  other  swept  back  from  his  eyes  the  long  hair,  that  he 
might  better  calculate  his  course ;  then  higher  and  more 
carefully  he  climbed  with,  unabated  earnestness  and  will. 
He  knew  that  no  other  human  creature  had  ever  attempted 
the  mad  feat.  He  knew  also  that  the  chances  of  his  being 
able  to  descend  again  with  his  life,  were  the  chances  only 
which  madmen  take.  But  a  storm  was  raging  within  him, 
which  drowned  fear,  and  reason,  and  prudence ;  and  the  ter 
rors  of  the  ascent  were  to  this  storm  as  the  zephyr  to  the 
tornado. 

A  mountain  cataract,  roaring  and  trembling  in  the  abyss 
below,  had  sounded  in  his  ears — a  stern  accompaniment  to ' 
the  storm  in  his  soul.     Its  wild,  distant  music  had  served  to 
distract  his  thoughts  from  his  utter  isolation  from  the  society 
of  mortals.    But  now  that,  too,  had  faded  and  died  away  in 


STOEMCLIFF.  9 

the  distance  below,  and  he  was  alone  with  silence  and  God. 
Pausing  again  to  rest,  he  listened,  and  hearing  no  sound 
save  his  own  heavy  breathing,  he  was  conscious  that  the  top 
of  the  cliff  was  near.  Looking  cautiously  upwards,  he  spied 
the  blue  sky  through  a  cleft  in  the  upper  edge  of  the  rocky 
wall.  The  plateau  on  the  summit  of  the  mountain  was  not 
twenty  feet  distant  from  him.  Oh,  horror  !  this  twenty  feet 
of  rock,  up  which  he  must  climb,  instead  of  sloping  backwards 
from  the  abyss,  now  curved  outwards  over  space.  His  body 
must  now  sway  away  from  its  perpendicular,  and  his  head 
swing  farther  out  over  the  awful  gulf  than  his  feet.  Men  at 
the  realization  of  such  a  position  have  become  instantly 
white-haired  with  terror.  Not  so  this  fearless  climber.  De 
tecting  the  favorable  proximity  and  abundance  of  the  shrubs 
growing  along  and  under  the  edge  of  the  clftf,  he  sprang  up 
wards,  grasped  them  in  his  hands,  and  by  the  sheer  power  of 
the  muscles  of  his  arms,  raised  himself  from  shrub  to  shrub 
slowly  out  towards  the  edge  of  the  rock,  with  his  feet  dan 
gling  in  mid-air.  His  hands  alone  prevented  his  falling  two 
thousand  feet  down  through  the  whistling  wind.  He  shud 
dered  then,  and  struggled  desperately  upwards  and  outwards 
to  the  edge.  He  caught  that  rocky  edge  in  his  hands,  and 
attempted  to  raise  his  body  up  and  over  it  to  the  plateau 
above.  The  muscles  of  his  arms  failed  him,  and  he  hung 
helpless  and  ready  to  fall  to  his  terrible  doom.  But  nature 
rallied  her  powers  for  the  grapple  with  death.  One  mighty 
effort,  and  his  body  slowly  raised  in  air,  the  chin  approached 
nearer  to  his  hands,  the  muscles  of  his  arms  gathered  in 
knots  near  the  shoulders,  the  chin  raised  above  the  highest 
edge  of  the  cliff,  the  breast  too  passed  above  the  rock,  and 
with  a  struggle  the  climber  drew  himself  over  it  on  to  the 
safe  plateau  above,  and  then  fell  exhausted  and  blood-stained 
upon  the  coveted  goal  of  his  fearful  climbing.  He  was  the 
lofty  and  solitary  king  of  the  highlands. 

For  a  long  time  he  lay  stretched  upon  the  plateau,  panting 
and  trembling.     At  last  he  raised  himself  upon  one  arm  and 

1* 


]  0  STORMCLIFF. 

glanced  about  him.  The  surface  of  the  rock  was  dotted  with 
Ibw  shrubs  growing  from  the  crevices,  and  these  sole  evi 
dences  of  vegetable  life  appeared  to  extend  backwards  over 
the  plain  for  a  great  distance.  He  raised  himself  to  a  sitting 
posture  and  looked  again,  but  the  plateau  appeared  to  have 
no  boundary  save  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  where  his  life  had 
balanced  between  time  and  eternity.  Then  he  turned 
towards  the  cliff,  and  gazed  down  over  the  magnificent 
reaches  of  mountains,  and  curving  river,  and  emerald  forests, 
and  towns  and  hamlets,  and  white-winged  vessels  gliding 
towards  the  sea.  His  eye  roved  over  the  familiar  church- 
spires  of  his  native  town,  gleaming  amid  the  mass  of  dark- 
green  maple-trees,  and  then  wandered  along  the  majestic 
sweep  of  the  Hudson,  where  it  answered  the  challenge  of  the 
sentinel  mountains  by  a  haughty  curve  to  the  eastward. 
Noble  old  river !  how  his  heart  was  bound  to  it  by  the 
memories  of  childhood !  He  had  watched  beside  its  cradle  in 
the  far  north,  where  the  airy-footed  deer  lave  in  its  clear  and 
rippling  waters.  He  had  witnessed  the  early  struggles  of  its 
boyhood  as  he  stood  on  the  hill-side  of  Luzerne,  and  saw  it 
cleave  for  itself  a  channel  only  twelve  feet  wide  and  seventy 
feet  deep  through  the  opposing  rock.  He  had  followed  its 
course  to  the  Falls  of  Hadley,  where,  in  its  young  manhood, 
it  moved  proudly  down  upon  the  arena  of  real  life  like  a 
young  warrior  leading  a  charge  of  ten  thousand  snow-white 
steeds  through  a  mountain  gorge.  He  had  watched  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century  the  battles  of  its  ripe  manhood  with  the 
opposing  highlands.  Aye,  he  had  seen  its  open  grave,  where 
a  million  of  men  are  ever  present  to  honor  its  burial.  In. 
early  life  he  had  chosen  that  proud  and  successful  river  as 
his  own  model  of  action.  He  had  anxiously  observed  the 
clouds,  and  the  storms,  and  the  night  blackness  settle  down 
upon  it,  and  had  gloried  to  see  it  emerge  brighter  and  more 
majestic  than  ever.  He  had  listened  to  the  wild  winds,  as 
they  talked  to  it  and  threatened  it.  He  had  seen  it  grow 
black  with  rage  and  beam  again  with  smiles,  but  ever  mov- 


STORMCLIFF.  11 

ing  onward  to  its  purpose — a  restless  and  increasing  bene 
factor  to  the  human  race.  Storms,  and  opposition,  and 
menace  were  its  portion;  but  its  career  was  ever  noble,  and 
its  name  ever  blessed  of  men. 

Why  had  he  failed  in  his  purpose  to  be  like  his  majestic 
model  ?  God  had  given  him  a  great  soul ;  had  placed  upon 
his  brow  the  crown  genius /  had  whispered  in  his  favored 
ear  the  thrilling  tale  of  a  higher  sphere,  whence  mortals  are 
allowed  to  gather  lightning  for  their  fellows  through  com 
munion  with  and  struggles  towards  the  Deity.  For  his  ear  the 
leaves  of  the  forest  trees  were  allowed  to  breathe  holy  music, 
the  dashing  waterfall  to  ring  with  the  silver  cadences  of  the 
angels,  and  the  misty  atmosphere,  hovering  over  the  land 
scape,  to  grow  tremulous  with  the  fluttering  wings  of  celestial 
messengers.  Look  at  him  seated  upon  the  edge  of  the  cliff, 
with  an  eye  of  fire  and  a  heart  of  ice — a  poor,  human,  noble 
heart  frozen  by  despair.  The  scythe  of  Time  has  not  yet 
described  thirty  circles  above  that  proud  young  head,  and 
yet  he  is  bitter  towards  his  adorable  God  and  Creator,  and 
he  has  scaled  that  mountain  cliff  to  execute  the  bidding  of  a 
fiend ;  for  genius  and  madness  are  step-sisters,  and  the 
chains  of  the  one  are  more  dangerous  than  the  wild  freedom 
of  the  other. 

He  sprang  suddenly  to  his  feet,  refreshed  and  strong 
again,  and  the  action  revealed  the  fine  proportions  of  his 
athletic  frame.  He  was  naturally  sinewy  and  broad-shoul 
dered,  and  gymnastic  exercises  had  developed  his  figure  into 
a  perfect  model  of  manly  power  and  symmetry.  He  was 
nearly  six  feet  in  height,  and  he  looked  strong  enough  to 
throttle  "  a  three-year-old  bull."  The  beauty  of  his  face  was 
marred  by  a  very  large  square  mouth ;  but  when  he  smiled 
or  conversed,  this  was  forgotten  in  the  charm  of  his  utter 
ance  and  the  genial  character  of  the  ever-varying  lines  of 
fun  or  sweetness  which  played  about  this  exaggerated  feature. 
His  cheeks  were  rather  sunken  and  sallow ;  but  his  nose, 
though  sallow  too,  was  straight  and  graceful,  and  the  per 


12  STORMCLIFF. 

fectly  arched  nostrils  trembled  when  under  excitement  in  a 
remarkable  manner.  But  the  glory  of  his  face  gleamed  forth 
in  the  glances  of  his  large  grey  eyes,  deep  set  under  heavy 
eyebrows  of  the  same  dark  hue  as  his  curling  black  hair. 
These  wonderful  eyes,  in  their  depth  and  strange  lambent 
brilliancy,  flashed  forth  what  the  broad,  beautiful  forehead 
more  calmly  indicated — a  master  soul.  The  eyes  and  the 
symmetry  of  figure  were  the  gift  of  his  mother.  The  large 
mouth  and  forehead  and  sallow  skin  came  from  his  father. 

He  raised  his  eyes  anxiously  towards  the  serene  sky.  A 
deep  thought  rose  to  them,  expanded  their  pupils,  then  spwead 
its  fleet  wings  for  the  realm  of  the  unseen  beyond  that  sky. 
It  was  followed  by  another,  which  left  lines  of  intense  anguish 
quivering  on  his  mouth.  Under  the  influence  of  the  last 
thought  he  walked  to  the  cliff's  edge  and. looked  down.  He 
shuddered  and  turned  away,  but  only  to  execute  more  per 
fectly  his  dreadful  purpose.  He  would  die,  but  it  must  be  a 
grand  death.  From  a  mountain  crag,  deemed  inaccessible  to 
men,  he  would  launch  forth  upon  air,  and  rush  downwards 
to  death,  where  none  could  be  able  to  identify  his  crushed, 
frightful  body.  He  walked  away  a  distance  of  more  than 
forty  feet,  then  started  towards  the  edge  of  the  precipice  upon 
a  full  run.  His  quick,  beating  footstep  sounded  upon  the 
rock ;  the  low  bushes  parted  from  his  rushing  figure  with 
rustling  sighs ;  he  bounded  to  the  precipice,  and  leaped  wildly 
into  the  terrible  embrace  of  a  tall  figure  which  shot  up  into 
the  air  on  the  very  edge  of  the  cliff.  The  shock  prostrated 
both  of  them,  and  the  suicide  fell  heavily  upon  his  face  over 
the  crevice,  through  which  he  had  seen  the  blue  sky  in  his 
last  climbing.  He  was  snatched  from  the  jaws  of  death  by 
a  woman. 

Bewildered  and  shocked  by  the  presence  of  human  life,  he 
gathered  himself  up  and  looked  at  her.  She  was  sitting  with 
her  lower  figure  hidden  in  the  crevice,  and  the  collision  with 
Lis  rushing  body  had  evidently  injured  her,  for  she  gasped 
for  breath.  He  strode  to  her  side,  and  kneeling  down,  put 


STOKMCLIFP.  13 

his  arm  about  her.  She  pointed  to  a  wider  opening  of  the 
rock  which  had  escaped  his  notice,  hidden  as  it  was  under 
the  clustering  shrubs.  He  saw  a  vein  of  water  trickling 
down  the  cleft  in  the  rock,  and  his  eyes  soon  detected  a  small 
brown  pitcher  suspended  from  one  of  the  stunted  shrubs.  He 
left  her,  and  placing  the  little  pitcher  under  the  trickling 
stream,  soon  collected  a  copious  draught  for  her,  which 
revived  her,  for  she  looked  kindly  at  him  and  said  : 

"  He  shall  give  his  angels  charge  concerning  thee  ;  and  in 
their  hands  they  shall  bear  thee  up,  lest  at  any  time  thou 
dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone." 

"  Oh  !  Nora,"  he  murmured,  "  why  have  you  done  this  ? 
One  second  more  and  I  should  have  been  free.  The  cruel 
clutch  on  my  heart  of  a  sad  life,  would  have  been  flung  off 
forever.  1  cannot  live.  Poverty  and  disappointment  pursue 
me — I  have  struggled  hard  and  well.  None  know  it  better 
than  you.  Alas !  this  burning,  fevered,  weary  heart  would 
be  at  rest.  There  is  no  place  in  life  for  me.  My  brain  burns 
with  the  longings  and  aspirations  of  a  seraph.  But  my 
actions  are  feeble  and  foolish.  Earth  and  Time  have  con- 

'      "  USr 

spired  against  me.  My  manuscripts,  you  know£them — the 
same  I  brought  to  you — rhave  come  back  upon  my  hands 
valueless  ;  and,  bitterest  of  all  trials — my  last  hope — dear 
old  Rockview  has  been  stolen  from  me.  Aye !  with  forged 
papers  and  perjured  witnesses,  it  has  been  wrested  from  me  ; 
and  now  I  have  not  one  hope,  one  purpose,  to  live  for.  Why 
did  you  cheat  the  grave  of  its  victim  ?" 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  then  exclaimed  with  a  sud 
den  start  of  surprise  : 

"  How,  in  the  name  of  God,  did  you  climb  this  mountain  ?" 
The  woman  replied  by  reaching  forth  her  trembling  hand 
for  a  steel-pointed  staff,  lying  unnoticed  upon  the  rock.  By 
its  aid  she  raised  her  tall  figure  slowly  up  out  of  the  crevice 
till  she  stood  upright  upon  the  plateau  beside  him.  Her 
eyes  were  undimmed  by  the  flight  of  sixty  winters,  and  were 
brilliantly  black,  searching  the  souls  of  men  with  the  quick- 


14  STOEMCLIFF. 

ness  and  accuracy  of  inspiration.  Not  a  grey  hair  glistened 
in  the  coal-black  tresses  which  she  had  carefully  smoothed 
back  under  her  widow's  mourning  hood.  She  was  robed 
completely  in  black,  and  her  thin  withered  countenance  bore 
the  hue  brunette.  She  was  known  to  many  families  of  the 
highlands  as  the  most  faithful  of  nurses.  To  a  select  few 

O 

among  the  poor  she  read  the  word  of  God,  and  directed  to 
them  the  kind  attentions  of  the  charitable.  Strange  stories 
were  sometimes  whispered  concerning  the  old  woman,  along 
the  curves  of  the  Hudson.  The  superstitious  had  been  heard 
to  denounce  her  as  being  too  familiar  with,  the  learning  of 
the  "  Lower  Kingdom."  These  last,  however,  were  careful 
not  to  make  their  statements  too  conspicuous,  for  "  Old  Nora  . 
Rudd"  was  rather  a  favorite  among  those  who  knew  her 
well.  She  was  too  kind  and  devoted  to  the  sick  to  be  abused 
openly.  But  nevertheless  it  was  impossible  to  look  into  her 
strange,  glittering  eyes,  without  recalling  memories  of  the 
tales  related  in  childhood  of  remarkable  old  personages  who 
had  suddenly  been  transformed  into  dazzling  fairies.  She  was 
unusually  tall  and  erect,  and  when  she  passed  along  the  street 
in  the  moonlight,  it  did  seem  as  if  her  glittering  eyes  could 
be  recognized  farther  off  than  any  other  human  eyes  known 
to  the  community.  But  allowances  must  be  made  for  that 
slight  vein  of  the  superstitious  and  the  marvellous  which  ebbs 
and  flows  in  all  of  us. 

Her  friends  scouted  the  idea  of  her  being  familiar  with  the 
Evil  One,  and  cited  with  rare  plausibility  the  fact  of  her  well 
known  devotion  to  the  reading  of  the  Bible  as  evidence  that 
she  lived  near  to  God.  She  was,  moreover,  a  member  of  a 
Christian  Church,  in  good  standing,  and  her  conduct  uni 
formly  pious  and  exemplary.  Indeed,  it  would  have»  been 
difficult  to  point  to  a  single  act  of  her  mature  life  which 
savored  of  evil.  It  is  true  she  wandered  much  in  the  woods 
and  wild  places  alone,  and  she  was  not  always  inclined  to 
give-t'he  public  curiosity  a  bulletin  of  her  daily  life.  To  this 
singularity  might  be  added  another  perversity — namely,  an 


STOKMCLIFF.  15 

unwillingness  to  talk  of  her  life  before  her  widowhood.  She 
was  believed  to  have  fallen  from  a  condition  of  affluence  to 
a  humbler  state  of  life,  and  her  conversation  certainly  evi 
denced  a  good  education. 

But  the  rumor  regarding  her  which  gained  the  widest  cir 
culation,  and  which  occasioned  among  many  a  slight  feeling 
of  awe,  was  her  reputed  power  to  isolate  herself  from  mate 
rial  objects  for  a  time  and  hold  communion  with  the  invisible 
world.  It  was  said  Nora  Rudd  had  on  several  occasions 
fallen  into  trances,  and  while  in  that  unconscious  state  had 
prophesied  with  remarkable  accuracy  of  coming  events.  The 
instance  of  her  strange  power  most  frequently  cited  was 
during  her  connection  with  a  prominent  family  of  the  high 
lands.  This  family,  of  late  years,  had  become  the  centre  of 
great  speculation  to  those  who  derive  the  principal  pleasure 
of  life  from  inquiries  and  investigations  into  the  affairs  of 
their  neighbors.  Several  mysterious  occurrences  had  ren 
dered  the  Traver  family  notorious.  Grace  Traver,  a  raven- 
haired  beauty  of  fifteen,  and  the  only  daughter,  had  been 
hurried  into  a  marriage  with  an  old  gentleman  of  sixty, 
named  Baltimore,  and  with  equal  and  indecent  haste  had  been 
carried  away  to  Europe,  where  she  was  said  to  be  living  very 
unhappily  from  want  of  congeniality  with  this  old  greyhead. 
She  had  been  gone  nearly"  six  years.  Her  brother  Walter, 
an  undergraduate  of  Harvard,  had  recently  been  crippled 
for  life  by  a  fall  from  his  horse.  Her  father,  Nicholas  Tra 
ver,  the  most  elegant  and  cultivated  gentleman  of  his  county, 
had  abandoned  society  immediately  after  his  daughter's  sin 
gular  marriage,  and  was  now  seldom  seen  among  men.  He 
was  reputed  to  have  been  a  superb  horseman,  and  it  was 
whispered  about  that  his  principal  exercise  now  was  taken 
upon  horseback  in  the  most  unfrequented  localities  and  upon 
the  wildest  mountain  roads.  Another  rumor  ascribed  to  him 
a  peculiar  sensitiveness  in  regard  to  being  seen  during  the 
summer  months.  He  had  been  seen  upon  his  famous  stallion, 
Tornado,  in  the  springtime  and  in  October,  bounding  away 


16  STORMCLIFF. 

amid  the  highland  solitudes.  For  six  years  lie  had  been  seen 
on  horseback,  and  in  nearly  every  month  of  the  year ;  but 
never,  it  was  asserted,  would  he  ride  in  the  summer  months 
or  in  September.  Rumor  said  he  was  restrained  at  those 
periods  by  some  deadly  terror.  His  fine  country-seat  had 
been  the  ideal  of  elegant  hospitality ;  now  it  was  a  secluded 
retreat  for  himself  and  his  crippled  son.  A  vague  terror 
had  become  associated  with  the  name  of  Traver ;  and  if  there 
was  a  reason  for  it  originally,  the  secret  was  well  maintained 
by  the  few  who  shared  it.  Curiosity,  indeed,  had  time  and 
again  hovered  around  the  unpenetrable  inclosure  which  divid 
ed  Nicholas  Traver's  property  from  the  public  highway.  It 
was  in  vain.  Curiosity  received  a  cold  shoulder  from  the  few 
and  reserved  servants  of  the  mysterious  family. 

Nora  Rudd  knew  everything  concerning  that  family. 
Everybody  said  it,  and  who  shall  dispute  what  everybody 
asserts.  That  remarkable  personage,  everybody,  has  blast 
ed  character,  tormented  innocence,  made  black  white,  and 
caused  water  to  run  up  hill,  besides  accomplishing  a  thou 
sand  equally  difficult  feats  which  have  rendered  its  name 
immortal.  Live  that  immaculate  Court  of  Appeals,  Every 
body  !  Well :  Nora  Rudd  had  lived  with,  and  nursed  and 
protected  Grace  Traver  from  infancy.  She  had  watched  the 
little  fairy,  when  her  exquisite  black  eyes  opened  upon  this 
beautiful  world  for  the  first  time.  She  first  taught  the  little 
baby  brunette  to  curl  her  forefinger  in  the  effort  to  point 
heavenward  and  lisp  the  name  of  "God."  She  closed  the 
eyes  of  that  baby's  mother,  and  followed  her  to  a  Christian 
burial.  She  taught  that  motherless  child,  that  to  be  lovely 
in  character,  and  faithful  to  friends,  is  a  richer  gift  than  empire. 
•And  when  that  child  looked  forth  through  the  uncertain 
ma^k  of  fifteen,  the  old  nurse  began  to  cherish  the  fond  hope 
that  she  would  be  beautiful  in  a  year  or  two  more. 

But  one  stormy  night,  when  the  mountain  spirits  came  down 
to  threaten  the  Hudson,  and  the  old  river  was  fairly  boiling 
whh  rage,  old  Nora  was  refused  admittance  to  see  her  darling. 


STORHCLTFF.  1 7 

She  suspected  something  was  wrong,  arid  she  crouched  down 
by  the  high  paling  to  wait,  and  watch,  and  listen  in  the 
pitiless  rain  till  morning.  In  a  trance  a  few  weeks  before, 
she  had  prophesied  (so  her  friends  told  her)  that  certain 
misfortunes  would  come  upon  the  Traver  family.  What  her 
friends  told  her  made  her  very  uneasy.  Hence  her  visit  on 
the  night  of  the  terrible  whirlwind.  While  she  crouched  by 
the  paling  in  the  storm,  a  carriage  rolled  out  through  the 
gate,  and  despite  her  frantic  efforts  to  arrest  its  hurrying 
wheels,  passed  on  into  the  darkness  and  was  gone. 

They  allowed  her  to  enter  the  premises  then,  for  her 
darling  was  gone  forever.  She  was  too  late  to  save  her,  but 
she  reached  the  Traver  mansion  in  time  to  hear,  amid  the 
howlings  of  the  storm,  and  amid  the  glancing  lights  of  the 
deserted  marriage-feast,  something  which  haunted  her  like  the 
shriek  of  a  lost  soul.  She  heard  the  last  fearful  words  which 
reason  left  upon  a  mother's  lips,  ere  he  resigned  his  sceptre. 
She  heard  a  high-born,  noble  Christian  lady  utter  a  curse 
which  ran  along  the  veins  of  the  listeners  like  electric  ice. 
Oh !  that  wounded  mother's  terrible  curse — that  last,  long 
howl  of  the  tigress  stripped  of  her  young ! 

Quiet  was  restored,  as  becomes  a  gentleman's  mansion,  and 
the  poor  lunatic  lady  was  placed  in  a  safe  asylum,  and  the 
matter  was  hushed.  Years  rolled  by  ;  summer  sunshine  and 
winter  darkness  came  and  fled.  The  birds  sang  in  their 
season,  and  the  Traver  estate  grew  more  luxuriant  in  foliage  ; 
but  quiet  reigned,  and  superstition  whispered  and  called  it 
gloom.  It  was  rumored,  however,  that  storms  were  more 
awful  on  that  estate  than  elsewhere.  That  the  winds  roared 
louder,  and  the  gale  whistled  more  shrilly  through  its  woods 
and  over  its  meadows,  than  elsewhere  in  the  highlands.  It 
was  noticed  that  the  lightning  fell  oftener  into  its  graceful 
trees  and  shattered  their  branches.  And  a  stranger  story 
still  was  told  of  a  human  voice,  that  travelled  in  dark  nights 
on  the  bosom  of  the  howling  wind,  when  it  passed  over 
Nicholas  Traver's  mansion,  and  that  the  burden  of  its  wail 


1 8  STORMCLIFF. 

was,  "  Be  ever  ready  to  meet  thy  God."  But  this  last  was 
whispered  among  the  ignorant  and  the  low,  and  everybody 
knows  how  many  silly  things  they  will  believe. 

Such,  then,  were  the  reputed  trances  of  Nora  Rudd ;  such 
were  the  stories  told  to  clothe  the  tall  dark  woman  with 
mystery  as  she  grew  old  amid  the  highlands,  but  never  wore 
the  silver  crown  of  age. 

As  she  leaned  upon  her  steel-pointed  staff,  she  answered 
the  athlete's  startled  question  thus : 

"  Clarence  Holden,  I  have  saved  your  life,  but  you  owe  me 
no  thanks.  You  saved  dear  little  Maggie  once  from  a 
watery  grave.  You  courted  death  to  save  her,  but  I  have 
run  no  risk  to  save  you.  I  have  only  stretched  forth  my 
arms  to  prevent  you  flinging  away  God's  precious  gift. 
You  know  how  dear  to  me  you  have  always  been  from 
childhood.  I  believe  I  could  hazard  much  to  save  one  of 
your  race.  You  are  indeed  alone ;  you  have  struggled 
nobly — you  shall  yet  win.  Is  it  nothing  to  you  that  your 
poor  old  nurse  loves  the  very  ground  on  which  you  tread  ? 
Is  it  nothing  to  you  that  these  aged  arms,  which  cradled 
your  infancy,  are  always  yearning  to  clasp  your  noble  head 
and  your  generous  heart  to  her  own?  What  would  poor 
old  Nora  have  to  live  for  when  you  and  Grace  are  both  gone 
from  her?  Did  you  forget  me  when  you  said  there  was 
nothing  for  you  to  live  for?  Live  for  me;  live  for  Nora, 
who  worships  your  intellect — who  knows  what  the  world 
shall  yet  acknowledge  in  you.  Live  for  the  sake  of  the  old 
woman.  You  will  never  find  a  warmer  heart  than  mine, 
unless  you  learn  to  lean  on  the  heart  of  Jesus,  the  adorable. 
Oh,  boy !  if  you  knew  what  a  well  of  love  is  in  my  old  heart 
for  you,  you  would  never  have  attempted  this.  To-day  you 
have  scaled  the  inaccessible — I  have  only  walked  up  a  crevice 
of  the  mountain,  and  down  that  hidden  way  you  shall  walk 
with  me.  I  will  aid  you — I  will  fight  for  you — I  will  pray 
for  you — you  shall  win.  I  conjure  you  by  the  memory  of 
your  holy  mother's  grave,  by  the  memory  of  your  noble 


STORMCLIFF.  19 

father's  deeds,  by  the  thought  of  all  that  elevates  the  soul 
above  the  brute,  to  make  one  more  effort,  one  mighty  effort, 
to  win  your  crown  among  men  and  your  crown  among  the 
angels  !  Hark !  the  wind  is  rising  ;  the  spirits  of  the  moun 
tain  talk  together.  The  inaccessible  has  been  conquered. 
The  highlands  acknowledge  a  new  king,  and  a  storm  shall 
honor  his  coming.  Gather,  powers  of  the  darkness — gather, 
lightnings  and  tempests — to  honor  the  coming  of  one  whose 
name  shaU  ring  from  crag  to  crag,  from  emerald  hill  to 
foaming  cataract,  from  rushing  river  to  roaring  sea !  Fare 
well,  brave  boy,  the  spirit  of  the  eternal  hills  shall  talk  with 
thee !" 

He  looked  at  her  in  surprise,  but  she  knew  him  no  longer. 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  western  sky,  where  the  last 
beams  of  the  setting  sun  faded  away  in  deepening  purple. 
She  was  ghastly  as  a  corpse,  and  her  stony  gaze  was  the 
filmy  stare  of  the  dead, 

A  sullen  roar  of  distant  thunder  was  audible,  and  a  flash 
lighted  the  gathering  gloom. 


CHAPTER  H. 

THE  pall  drooped  lower  over  the  departed  day.  It  deep 
ened  the  green  foliage  of  the  mountain  sides  and  darkened 
the  bosom  of  the  broad  river.  The  towns  and  hamlets  slowly 
disappeared,  the  sails  of  the  vessels  grew  sombre  and  then 
faded  away  into  the  valley  of  darkness  which  formed  between 
the  hills.  Then  the  outlines  of  the  sentinel  mountains  died 
away  against  the  sky,  and  all  was  gloom.  The  day  was  no 
more,  and  the  wind  moaned  over  its  bier.  Over  the  lost 
-  river  hurried  the  wild  mourner,  and  the  hidden  forests 
responded  to  its  wail.  From  that  fathomless  abyss  which 
yawned  at  the  cliff's  edge  rose  strange,  far-off  sounds  of  the 
agonized  trees  in  death-grapple  with  the  unseen  foe.  Wilder 


20  STOBMCLIFP. 

and  fiercer  waxed  the  struggle.  The  reserve  forces  of  the 
storm  gathered  to  the  tops  of  the  mountains,  and  with  pierc- 
ipg  yells  leaped  from  the  crags  down  upon  the  dusky  battle 
field.  The  artillery  of  the  clouds  moved  to  commanding 
positions,  and  dazzling  bolts  of  livid  fire  fell  far  down  into 
the  depths  of  the  forests,  and  the  monarchs  of  the  glens  were 
riven  asunder  with  reports  which  shook  the  shrouded  hilte; 

At  length  the  violence  of  the  storm  passed  by.  The  rain 
ceased  to  fall,  the  wind  lulled  away  into  silence,  and  the  elec 
tric  death  moved  oif  to  other  battle-fields.  But  the  broad 
sheets  of  startling  fire  continued  still  to  light  the  mountain 
crag  from  the  distance.  Every  clinging  bush  was  revealed  ; 
and  the  profile  of  the  mountains  sprang  to  life  with  every 
flash.  Motionless  upon  the  cliff,  was  revealed  the  tall  figure 
of  the  prophetess,  trance-bound  and  ghastly  pale,  and  sternly 
looking  westward  as  before.  Her  hands  clung  to  her  long 
staff,  whose  steel  point  gleamed  fearfully  in  the  dangerous 
light.  At  her  feet  crouched  the  rescued  suicide,  trembling 
and  awe-struck  at  the  passing  anger  of  an  offended  God,  but 
gazing  upwards  into  those  strange  dark  eyes  which  seemed  to 
commune  with  the  Deity  in  his  behalf. 

When  the  storm  came  sweeping  along  the  mountain  wall, 
he  had  fallen  to  his  knees,  and  with  clasped  hands  watched  ner 
countenance  for  a  sign  of  her  reputed  power.  Once  only 
had  his  gaze  been  withdrawn,  when  the  lightning  fell  into  the 
midst  of  his  own  native  town  far  below  him.  The  nearness  of 
the  falling  bolt  had  almost  blinded  him  as  it  passed,  but  he 
turned  again  to  the  countenance  of  Nora.  When  the  mut- 
terings  of  the  thunder  grew  faint  in  the  distance,  and  the 
pale  light  only  glimmered  near,  he  saw  a  shudder  pass  over 
her,  and  her  lips  murmured  inaudibly.  He  watched  her 
then  with  beating  heart,  and  some  strange  instinct  told  him 
that  the  appointed  time  of  his  message  from  the  unseen  was 
near.  He  waited  until  the  lightning  passed  away,  and  her 
face  was  lost  in  the  darkness.  But,  by-and-by,  a  star  looked 
down  timidly  upon  the  scene ;  then,  seeing  no  danger  or  vio- 


STOBMCLIFF.  21 

lence  near,  it  boldly  revealed  itself.  Another  and  another 
still  gleamed  forth  upon  the  night,  until  the  whole  sky  glim 
mered  with  the  peace  of  God. 

So  far  above  the  homes  of  men,  so  far  above  the  graves  of 
the  loved  and  the  lost,  so  much  nearer  to  the  pale  holy  light 
of  the  stars,  so  much  nearer  to  the  blue  belt  of  ether  where 
human  imagination  would  locate  Heaven — it  seemed,  indeed, 
an  appropriate  place  for  a  kind  Father  to  forgive  a  wanderer 
and  whisper  to  a  desolate  heart  "  hope"  Ah  !  the  maxims 
and  the  practices  of  men  are  so  hard  to  a  sensitive,  finely 
strung  nature,  that  the  wonder  is,  so  few  faint  and  die  by  the 
wayside.  A  rude  blow  shivers  the  harp-strings,  when  a 
gentle,  considerate  touch  would  fill  the  air  with  melody.  A 
gentle  word  to  the  struggling  artist,  a  kind  look  to  the  pov 
erty-stricken  genius,  a  word  of  cheer  to  the  uncrowned  poet, 
may  open  to  men  a  mine  of  beauty  and  wealth  in  the  rich 
plain  which  lies  near  the  city  of  God.  These  delicate  harp- 
strings  are  not  remote  from  any  man's  door.  They  vibrate 
in  the  brain  of  the  timid  child  who  asks  for  knowledge,  not 
for  a  sneer.  They  tremble  with  zeal  in  the  soul  of  the  scien 
tific  man  who  asks  for  aid  in  a  purpose  which  shall  furrow  the 
sea  with  vessels.  They  whisper  in  the  heart  of  the  poet  who 
rises  oft  towards  his  Creator's  throne.  They  throb  with  pas 
sion  in  the  orator  who  would  exert  his  latent  fire  upon  the 
consciences  of  men.  And  when  a  man,  forgetful  of  the 
maxims  of  society,  scatters  the  pearls  of  kind  words  and 
cheer  to  the  struggling,  he  wakes  an  echo  among  the  hosts 
of  Heaven,  which  first  was  heard  stealing  over  the  blue 
waves  of  Galilee  from  the  voice  of  the  Master. 

A  shudder,  as  from  a  chilly  wind,  passed  over  Nora  again 
and  she  seemed  to  speak  under  the  inspiration  of  another 
sphere. 

"  Clarence  Holden,  with  God  and  the  angels,  success  is  not 
the  test  of  merit.  The  invisible  world  is  satisfied  not  with 
the  position  and  wealth  men  gain,  but  with  the  purity  and 
sincerity  of  their  motives  and  the  patient  efforts  of  their 


22  STOKMCLIFF. 

lives  to  fulfil  their  destiny.  The  measure  of  worldly  success 
which  shall  follow  upon  effort  is  regulated  by  the  will  of  God. 
His  counsels  none  can  fathom.  He  best  knows  to  whom  suc 
cess  should  be  granted  in  life,  and  for  whom  it  should  be 
reserved  for  the  life  to  come.  Let  this  console  and  strengthen 
you.  You  are  doing  His  will,  when  you  are  struggling  to  do 
His  will.  But  nerve  yourself  again  for  the  mission  of  life. 
Your  nature  is  Tsuch  that  an  easy  success  would  wilt  your 
energies.  An  early  coronation  of  your  genius  would  furnish 
to  you  luxury  for  the  gratification  of  the  sensual  in  you. 
You  shall  cease  to  regard  the  sensual  by  the  habits  of  self- 
denial.  The  spiritual,  the  intellectual,  the  heroic  in  you  shall 
thrive  on  the  barrens  of  poverty.  Lift  up  your  head.  You 
are  formed  in  the  likeness  of  God.  The  signet  of  the  Eter 
nal  King  has  marked  your  soul,  and  the  royal  messengers 
hover  about  you  now  to  guide  you  to  the  inheritance.  You 
have  been  flung  from  an  earthly  position  of  honor  to  the 
level  of  the  poor.  A  brand  has  been  marked  on  you  by  the 
world ;  that  world  will  call  it  shame.  But  that  shame  is  not 
of  your  making.  It  was  fastened  on  you  in  infancy.  You 
are  no  impostor.  Rise — soar — wipe  off  the  brand.  Assert 
your  manhood ;  live  and  conquer.  An  earthly  crown  of 
honor  hovers  now  above  you — reach  upwards  and  take  it,  and 
in  the  taking  jeopardize  not  the  eternal  crown  of  Heaven. 

"  Hark  !  the  wind  whistles  through  the  cordage — the  foam 
rises  upon  the  plunging  vessel,  and  the  bowlings  of  the  gale 
answer  the  prayers  of  the  trembling.  Precious  lives  freight 
the  barque ;  and  one — ah !  one,  the  dark-haired  one — is  there 
and  fearless.  She  strains  her  wild  eyes  over  the  sea ;  she 
hopes  when  others  fail ;  she  strengthens  by  her  words  of  cheer. 
Ah  !  she  wins  her  life  and  home.  In  the  widow's  garb  she 
lands  upon  her  native  soil ;  many  will  seek  her.  Thy  genius, 
well  directed,  may  win  her.  Try. 

"  The  scene  changes  to  the  highlands.  The  river  is  smoothly 
flowing,  and  the  sky  is  blue.  She  is  a  graceful  one — this 
second  comer — and  the  roses  -flutter  upon  the  snow  of  her 


STOEMCLIFF.  23 

cheeks.  Her  eyes  are  blue,  and  her  brown  curling  hair  is 
the  pride  of  her  beautiful  home.  Child  of  genius,  thy  destiny 
is  poised  between  the  two.  Triumph  is  thine,  and  in  thy 
arms  shall  be  folded  one — thy  wife." 

With  a  sudden  start  the  prophetess  awoke  as  from  a 
dream,  and  with  a  bewildered  look  turned  away.  Clarence 
Holden  sprang  to  his  feet,  and  taking  her  hand  in  the 
starlight,  said :  "  Nora,  I  am  saved — you  have  dreamed  and 
talked  to  me — I  know  that  God  has  sent  his  angel — I  will 
live  for  truth,  for  victory,  and  for  Heaven." 

She  answered,  still  bewildered  by  the  darkness  and  the 
place  :  "  I  know  not  where  I  am — I  know  your  voice — for 
give  me,  but  these  dreams  come  on  so  suddenly  I  cannot 
tell  where  I  am.  Am  I  home-in  the  village — no  !  the  stars 
are  shining  there.  How  wet  my  dress  is — or  am  I  dreaming  ?" 

He  caught  at  her.  dress  and  saved  her  from  the  crevice 
where  her  bewildered  footsteps  were  leading  her.  At  his 
suggestion,  she  sat  down  upon  the  rock  for  a  few  moments, 
to  recover  her  senses.  He  recalled  her  to  the  dreadful 
place  and  hour  upon  the  cliff.  She  shuddered  with  cold ; 
then,  as  the  memory  of  his  danger,  and  salvation  at  her 
hands,  returned,  she  murmured  : 

"  Thanks  be  to  God !  I  was  here  in  time  ;  this  is  my 
secret  retreat,  where  I  can  pray  and  meditate  and  talk  with 
God.  Oh  !  do  not  betray  this  spot  to  men ;  I  will  guide 
you  safely  down  a  crevice  to  the  village.  This  mountain 
is  fractured  from  top  to  bottom ;  but  the  lower  approach 
is  hidden ;  it  is  my  secret ;  promise  to  me  that  it  shall  re 
main  a  secret — promise  solemnly  to  the  old  woman  who 
has  saved  your  life." 

"Strange,"  he  muttered  to  himself;  "I  have  wandered 
about  this  mountain  for  years,  and  no  fracture  could  I  ever 
find.  It  is  singular  enough  that  this  old  woman's  feet 
should  find  a  path  to  the  top,  when  all  my  climbing  and 
wandering  about  this  cliff  have  not  given  me  the  slightest 
clue !" 


24  STOBMCLIFF. 

Then  he  said  aloud: 

"  I  promise,  Nora — indeed  I  would  promise  anything  to 
see  you  safe  at  home  again.  You  have  saved  we,  but  you 
will  suffer — your  clothes  are  drenched  with  rain — but  how 
can  you  find  your  way  in  the  darkness  ?" 

"  I  am  always  prepared  for  that,"  she  answered.  "  Many, 
many  years  I  have  ascended  to  this  place ;  and  I  find  that 
the  great  secret  is  best  preserved  by  coming  here  just 
before  nightfall.  I  have  always  water  at  hand,  as  you  see 
here  in  this  crevice.  Now,  if  you  will  exert  yourself  a 
little  and  grope  under  the  bush  where  you  found  my 
pitcher,  you  will  find  a  lantern  and  matches  in  it.  Light 
the  candle  and  hold  the  lantern  low  down  under  the  bush, 
and  you  will  see  your  way — it  is  wide  enough  and  good 
walking  after  the  first  ten  feet.  I  will  follow  you,  and  direct 
you  when  to  avoid  turning  into  the  side  fractures  which 
would  lead  you  astray.  Some  day  it  may  be  worth  your 
while  to  follow  out  these  side  cracks;  your  feet  will  be 
better  explorers  than  an  old  woman's,  and  I  would  like 
to  know  where  they  lead  one.  Can  you  find  my  lantern  ? 
Close  under  the  bush  where  the  water  trickles — a  little  far 
ther  that  way — you  cannot  miss  it." 

Following  her  directing  voice,  he  found  the  lantern  and 
lighted  the  piece  of  caudle  in  it ;  then  holding  it  low 
down  in  the -rock,  he  saw  a  broad  opening  which  gradually 
inclined  away  from  him  into  the  depths  of  the  mountain. 
He  raised  himself  to  an  erect  position  in  the  crevice  to 
look  after  his  companion.  She  was  close  beside  him  with 
her  staff.  Then  he  commenced  slowly  and  cautiously  to 
descend  the  inclined  plane  in  the  rock,  holding  the  light 
before  him.  The  descent  was  easy  enough,  and  the  upper 
side  of  the  crack  was  more  than  two  feet  above  his  head. 
As  he  discovered  the  path  to  be  quite  uniform  in  its  cha 
racter,  following  down  beside  the  stream  which  had  so  singu 
larly  commenced  at  the  very  summit  of  the  cliff,  he  re 
gained  his  confidence  and  moved  more  rapidly  downwards. 


STORMCLIFP.  25 

There  was  wonderful  charrn  to  his  adventurous  nature  in 
penetrating  thus  to  the  base  of  a  mountain  which  had  so 
often  excited  his  curiosity  and  speculations  from  childhood, 
and  which  he  had  deemed  inaccessible  to  aught  except  the 
birds.  lie  had  scaled  that  mountain  under  the  stimulus  of 
despair.  He  was  now  returning  home  by  a  subterranean 
way,  saved,  full  of  hope,  inspired,  and  with  a  vague  realiza 
tion  that  the  supernatural  had  interposed  in  his  behalf. 
He  was  twenty-eight  years  of  age.  Only  one  week  before 
he  was  the  favorite  and  only  child  of  an  affluent  and  hon 
ored  father,  whose  domain  was  marked  off  in  the  village 
not  far  from  the  base  of  the  mountain.  He  was  regarded 
as  the  sole  heir  of  that  indulgent  father's  estate.  Within 
that  week  Judge  Holden  had  breathed  his  last,  and  by 
the  will  Clarence  was  ignored,  and  the  entire  property 
devised  to  another.  The  decedent,  to  the  astonishment  of 
the  community,  in  the  opening  clause  of  his  will  declared 
that  a  base  imposition  had  been  practised  upon  him  years 
before ;  that  the  evidence  of  the  fraud  was  conclusive  to 
his  mind,  and  that  the  author  should  not  be  successful  in 
his  purpose ;  that  Clarence,  notwithstanding  strong  family 
resemblances  to  himself  and  to  his  wife,  was  not  his  son. 
He  was  confident  that  an  exchange  of  children  had  been 
made  in  infancy,  and  his  own  child  had  been  stolen  from 
him.  He  stated  in  candor  that  Clarence  might  not  yet 
know  of  the  affair,  but  he  nevertheless  chose  to  retain  all 
of  his  property  for  his  own  child,  should  he  still  be  living ; 
and  in  furtherance  of  that  natural  instinct,  he  made  such 
disposition  of  his  estate  that  his  son  might  receive  the  bene 
fit  of  it,  should  he  ever  be  found  alive.  He  professed  his 
entire  ignorance  of  the  parentage  of  the  said  Clarence,  but 
declared  that  the  evidence  of  his  being  a  stranger  to  the 
Holden  blood  was  conclusive,  and  that  his  will  was  based 
entirely  upon  facts,  and  not  upon  hasty  judgment  or  preju 
dice.  His  large  estate  was  given  to  a  well  known  citizen 
and  a  relative  of  the  testator.  The  only  exception  to  this 

2 


26  STOKMCLIF31. 

sweeping  act  of  disinherison,  was  a  brief  and  singular  clause 
giving  to  the  said  Clarence  an  old  clock,  which  was  evi 
dently  one  hundred  years  old,  and  which  had  stood  in  its 
antique  beauty  in  the  hall  of  the  Judge's  residence  for 
many  years.  The  character  of  Judge  Holden,  and  his  well 
known  clearness  and  calmness  of  judgment,  precluded  the 
possibility  of  aberration  of  intellect,  and  the  will  was  evi 
dently  unimpeachable.  Clarence  was  cast  out  upon  the 
world  a  beggar,  and  with  the  unfortunate  position  of  being 
a  son  of  nobody.  His  first  impulse  led  him  to  collect 
manuscripts  upon  which  he  had  been  many  years  engaged, 
and  send  them  to  New  York  for  publication.  They 
had  been  returned  to  him  with  the  assurance  of  the 
publisher  that  such  literary  productions  would  not  pay  for 
the  expense  of  publication ;  the  large  circle  of  his  elegant 
acquaintance  dropped  him  from  society  at  once ;  he  could 
procure  recommendation  to  no  place  in  which  an  educated 
gentleman  would  be  able  to  earn  a  livelihood.  "With  the 
impulse  and  the  energy  of  despair,  he  scaled  the  mountain 
to  die.  At  an  earlier  period  of  life  he  would  have  clung 
to  hope  and  struggled  longer ;  but  at  his  age  life  had  lost 
much  of  its  brightness  and  its  illusions,  and  this  loss  aided 
his  pride  to  seek  death.  He  had  no  friend  to  counsel  him 
to  live,  to  soothe  his  desolate  heart,  to  whisper  to  him  of 
God.  His  old  nurse  clung  to  him  on  the  border  of  death, 
and  by  the  force  of  her  imagination  (or  as  the  superstitious 
would  express  it,  by  the  direct  inspiration  of  the  invisible 
life)  wooed  him  back  to  earth. 

As  he  moved  cautiously  along  down  the  inclined  plane  in 
the  heart  of  the  mountain,  followed  by  the  preserver  of  his 
life,  the  iron  will  which  had  been  once  so  strong  within  him 
returned,  and  with  it  came  that  enthusiasm  which  was  wont 
to  send  the  hot  blood  pressing  and  whirling  upon  his  brain. 
He  conversed  at  length  cheerfully  and  earnestly,  telling  her 
of  new  purposes  and  plans  which  he  would  carry  out.  He 
thanked  her  warmly,  time  and  again,  for  her  interposition  to 


STORM  CLIFF.  27 

save  him;  but  more  particularly  did  lie  dwell  upon  the 
inspired  words  which  had  come  from  her  lips  in  the  trance, 
declaring  that  they  filled  his  heart  like  the  breath  of  the 
Eternal,  and  moved  him  to  feelings  of  awe  and  worship 
which  were  strange  to  him.  He  assured  her  that,  should 
success  indeed  crown  his  efforts,  he  would  provide  for  his 
preserver  during  the  residue  of  her  life.  And  she,  directing 
him  occasionally  where  to  turn  in  his  path,  followed  vigor 
ously  in  his  footsteps,  and  drawing  from  him,  meanwhile,  all 
the  singular  details  of  his  unfortunate  history  for  the  past 
week.  She  told  him,  too,  of  a  vacant  house  near  the  village, 
and  on  the  river  bank,  very  small  and  very  comfortable,  and 
that  it  could  be  rented  for  a  small  sum.  She  promised, 
moreover,  to  be  his  security  for  the  rent  until  he  could  raise 
the  amount.  The  vacant  tenement  had  only  two  small 
rooms,  and  would  answer  his  purpose  well.  He  could  study, 
arid  write,  and  sleep  in  one,  and  cook  for  himself  in  the 
other.  Winter  was  yet  far  off,  and  the  cost  of  his  fuel  would 
be  a  mere  trifle.  He  was  already  admitted  to  practice  in 
the  courts  of  the  State,  and  might  be  fortunate  enough  to 
find  legal  employment  before  the  cold  weather  should  come 
on.  If  any  clients  should  find  their  way  to  his  little  office  on 
the  river  bank,  so  much  the  better.  But  his  first  hope  was 
his  pen  and  his  tongue.  An  exciting  political  campaign  was 
just  opening,  and  he  would  take  the  stump  for  his  party.  He 
determined  to  write  a  speech  which  should  force  his  neigh 
bors  to  secure  his  services  for  the  canvass  of  the  county.  At 
the  same  time  he  could  find  opportunity  in  the  still  hours  of 
the  night  to  devote  himself  to  his  favorite  pursuit,  literature. 
Nothing  should  daunt  or  discourage  him  again  from  his  pur 
pose  to  furnish  such  composition  for  publication  as  should 
secure  him  fame  among  men  of  letters. 

In  the  discussion  of  these  plans,  time  sped  away,  and  the 
end  of  the  subterranean  journey  was  close  at  hand.  At  a 
word  of  caution  from  Nora,  the  lantern-bearer  paused,  and 
passed  the  light  into  her  keeping.  She  advanced  a  few 


28  STORMCLTFF; 

steps,  and,  extending  the  lantern  before  her,  revealed  a  nar 
row  fissure  in  the  rock  upon  which  they  were  standing. 
"With  considerable  difficulty  she  climbed  down  into  this  dis 
mal  aperture,  which  scarcely  admitted  her  person.  She 
reached  the  bottom  after  a  descent  of  some  twenty  feet,  and 
then  held  up  the  light  to  guide  the  descent  of  her  com 
panion.  When  he  stood  once  more  beside  her,  she  advanced 
a  few  feet  further,  and  then  pushed  aside  with  her  hand  a 
heavy  pile  of  pine  branches,  which  were  used  as  a  screen 
over  a  narrow  opening  in  a  wall  of  carefully  laid  masonry. 
Following  his  guide  through  this  opening,  he  found  himself 
standing  in  a  cellar  of  a  house.  Nora  carefully  covered  up 
the  approach  to  the  crevice  with  the  green  boughs,  and  then 
led  the  way  up  narrow  stairs  to  the  kitchen  of  her  own  little 
dwelling. 

The  surprise  was  complete.  No  one  would  ever  find  this 
subterranean  path  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  so  long  as 
the  secret  of  the  cellar  was  maintained. 
•  Nora  retired  to  her  bedroom,  and  provided  herself  with 
dry  garments.  Then  she  kindled  a  large  fire  on  the  hearth, 
by  which  her  guest  succeeded  in  drying  his  own.  She 
wiped  away  the  blood  from  his  torn  hands,  and  bound  his 
wounds  with  oil  and  leaves  of  wild  plants  gathered  on  the 
mountain.  She  brought  from  an  old  iron-bound  chest  a 
straw  hat  to  supply  the  place  of  the  one  which  had  fallen 
down  the  cliff.  Then  she  cooked  a  supper  for  him,  and 
served  it  up  on  the  table  of  her  kitchen,  and  while  he  ate 
she  stood  near  and  waited  upon  him  with  the  gentleness  of 
the  old  nurse  who  had  watched  him  in  infancy. 

When  the  hour  of  parting  came,  and  he  stood  upon  the 
threshold  of  the  kind  old  soul  who  had  saved  him,  and  mur 
mured  again  his  tearful  gratitude,  she  said  : 

"  It  may  be  a  strange  act  for  you,  but  I  charge  you,  do  not 
fail  when  you  retire  to  sleep  this  night  to  kneel  down  in 
adoration  and  gratitude  to  that  Heavenly  Father  who  has 
protected  you  this  day,  and  given  hope  to  your  existence." 


STOKMCXIFF.  29 

The  door  closed  upon  him,  and  he  stood  in  one  of  the  prin 
cipal  streets  of  the  village  of  his  birth.  The  stars  glistened  above 
Lira.  It  filled  him  with  awe  to  realize  what  an  immense  dis 
tance  he  must  have  travelled  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain 
and  under  the  earth  to  reach  his  present  position,  so  near  his 
home — alas!  his  home  no  longer.  This  would  be  the  last 
night  he  could  sleep  beneath  that  roof  which  he  had  been 
taught  to  believe  his  own.  This  desolate  thought  staggered 
his  purpose.  Ah,  it  is  a  sickening  thought  for  an  affection 
ate  heart  to  give  up  home.  He  yielded  but  a  moment. 
Clenching  his  fist  and  his  teeth,  he  started  forward  along  the 
street.  Then  he  became  calm  again,  and  whispered  to  him 
self: 

"  But  I  have  God  and  Nora ;  yes,  a  strange  old  clock,  too. 
What  is  the  mystery  of  this — this  faithful,  venerable,  time- 
worn  clock? — it  must  belong  to  me  by  some  stronger  right 
than  this  singular  will.  Who  am  I,  and  what  is  the  clock  ?  I 
have  no  father — no  mother — I  have  no  name,  even !  And 
yet  I  have  a  clock  one  hundred  years  old — nearly  four  times 
as  old  as  myself.  Never  mind  !  I  am  to  succeed — the  spirit 
of  the  highlands  has  said  it." 

Thus  puzzled,  and  studying  deeply,  he  passed  along  the 
street ;  all  was  quiet,  and  the  town  was  sleeping.  He  passed 
thoughtfully  beyond  the  dwellings,  out  into  the  fields,  in  the 
direction  of  Judge  Holden's  estate.  His  course  led  him  past 
the  gloomy  home  of  Nicholas  Traver.  Some  unusual  commo 
tion  must  have  transpired  at  that  hour  of  the  night,  to  gather 
so  many  persons  and  so  many  lanterns  about  the  stables  of 
the  Traver  family.  The  gate  was  open,  and  the  excitement 
seemed  to  invite  him  in.  In  times  of  public  calamity,  forms 
and  restraints  are  forgotten.  He  walked  into  the  premises 
and  made  his  way  towards  the  crowd  at  the  stables.  Under 
a  great  tree  near  the  barns,  several  men  were  holding  lanterns 
over  a  large  grey  object  stretched  on  the  grass. ' 

"What  is  it?"  he  inquired,  as  he  entered  the  cui'ious 
circle,  of  a  silent  spectator  who  stood  a  little  apart.  The  man 


30  STOEMCLIFF. 

addressed  turned  to  him  with  an  exclamation  of  recognition, 
then  answered : 

"It  is  Mr.  Traver's  favorite  stallion,  Tornado;  he  was 
struck  by  lightning  to-night,  and  instantly  killed." 

The  young  man  glanced  upwards  at  the  distant  cliff,  faintly 
revealed  in  the  clear  starlight ;  then  turned  away  and  walked 
thoughtfully  out  into  the  highway. 


CHAPTER  in. 

sat  alone  in  the  lamplight.  She  leaned  over  her  table, 
and  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears.  The  cause  of  her  emotion 
•was  a  miniature  painted  on  ivory.  She  had  taken  it  from  a 
little  packet  which  lay  on  her  table.  She  dried  her  eyes  and 
looked  at  it  again,  bringing  it  nearer  to  her  lamp.  It  was 
more  satisfactory  in  this  new  position,  for  she  smiled  and 
murmured,  "  My  own  beautiful  darling — my  own — my  own 
— I  was  sure  of  it — indeed  I  was.  The  same  proud  look 
and  consciousness  of  power  as  her  mother — the  same  large, 
lustrous  eyes,  hiding  away  from  familiarity  with  strangers 
under  the  black,  sweeping  eyelashes.  Yes ! —  yes  ! — there  is 
the  same  real  peach-flush  in  the  dark  cheeks.  That  wicked, 
wipked  smile,  so  full  of  meaning.  A  master  hand  has  painted 
this.  Poor  child !  what  does  she  do  with  all  that  hair,  so 
glossy  black,  so  heavy  ?  Why,  I  could  scarcely  manage  it 
then,  when  she  was  so  young — and  now,  what  must  it  be? 
Ah  me!  God  is  good.  She  looks  proud  and  happy.  It 
has  not  broken  her  heart  then.  She  is  free  of  him  now,  and 
her  old  look  has  come  back  to  her.  To  sacrifice  my  darling 
so,  it  was  a  burning,  burning  shame.  But  I  must  finish  her 
letter  now.  How  sweet  of  her  to  have  this  painted  all  for 
me — for  me,  her  old  nurse  !" 

After  another  glance  at   the  miniature,  she  laid  it  aside 
and  resumed  the  reading  of  the  letter. 


STOKMCLIFF.  31 

"If  I  had  not  been  such  a  mere  child,  I  should  have 
insisted  on  knowing  why  papa  was  in  such  a  desperate 
strait.  But  you  did  not  get  my  note,  and  I  had  no  mother, 
no  sister,  to  advise  me.  Poor  papa  was  so  agonized,  and 
begged  so  hard,  and  I  could  not  refuse  to  save  my  own 
father's  life.  Oh  !  it  is  such  a  mystery  to  me.  I  am  very 
bitter  sometimes  when  I  think  of  it.  It  cannot  be  right  to 
doom  a  woman  to  such  torture  as  I  have  passed  through,  to 
save  any  man's  life.  But  I  am  free  now,  and  I  intend  to 
secure  as  much  of  enjoyment  in  life  as  I  can  consistently 
with  those  principles  which  you  taught  me  so  faithfully. 
Nora,  dearest,  the  best  years  of  my  life  for  study  and  culti 
vation  have  been  stolen  from  me.  To  be  sure,  I  have  learned 
much  of  those  practical  ideas  of  life  which  will  aid  me 
to  distrust  and  watch  men  who  approach  me  now  on  account 
of  my  great  wealth.  (Since  I  have  been  a  widow,  I  have 
refused  six  offers  of  marriage,  for  I  will  not  marry  a 
foreigner.)  But  you  know,  dearest,  that  a  woman  needs  to 
know  something  besides  the  art  of  entertaining  company, 
and  avoiding  foolish  mai'riages,  and  appreciating  art  and 
music.  Oh !  as  these  ancient  and  wonderful  temples  have 
stood  before  me  under  these  strange  skies — as  these  aqueducts 
and  baths  and  libraries  have  passed  in  bewildering  review 
before  me,  my  brain  has  fairly  ached  to  know  something  of 
the  empires,  and  rulers,  and  characteristics  of  the  people 
contemporary  with  them.  In  timid  silence  I  have  listened  to 
conversations  of  the  learned  and  the  cultivated,  in  which  by 
my  birth  and  position  I  should  have  been  a  participant.  I 
am  too  proud  to  avow  my  ignorance,  and  too  proud  to  make 
pretensions.  By  every  means  in  his  power,  that  old  husband 
of  mine  sought  to  keep  me  in  ignorance.  He  tormented  me 
by  his  evasive  and  dubious  answers.  He  drove  from  me  the 
learned  and  the  great.  He  would  not  allow  me  to  read. 
You  know  how  a  mean  man  can  make  his  wife  wretched, 
when  she  is  too  proud  to  become  mean  herself  to  torment 
him  in  return.  I  have  struggled  hard  to  retain  my  self- 


32  STORMCLIFF. 

respect,  and  treat  him  as  the  law  of  God  requires.  But 
now  I  am  free,  and  I  am  as  wild  as  a  hare — do  you  know 
exactly  what  that  means  ? — for  I  don't.  I  never  saw  a  hare 
in  my  life.  Well,  the  first  move  after  old  Baltimore  was 
dead,  was  to  secure  a  proper  and  dignified  place  for  myself 
to  study  in.  I  was  ashamed  to  come  back  to  my  own 
country  in  such  a  deplorable  state  of  ignorance.  I  selected 
a  small  house  in  Paris,  and  lived  very  quietly.  Miss  Angier, 
a  young  American  lady,  and  the  daughter  of  an  artist,  lived 
with  me.  I  promised  to  support  her  as  long  as  she  would 
instruct  me.  She  has  been  with  me  constantly,  and  declared 
that  she  has  transferred  to  me  every  idea  she  ever  had  in  her 
life.  I  have  read  everything  with  her,  and  I  intend  to  bring 
her  to  America  with  me,  to  live  with  me.  She  is  a  good 
girl,  but  she  will  flirt  with  every  man  that  crosses  her  path. 
She  differs  from  me  in  this  respect,  for  I  only  can  flirt  with  * 
men  of  intellect.  I  confess  it  is  a  solemn  species  of  flirtation 
for  me,  mixed  with  awe.  For,  I  assure  you,  my  dearest 
Nora,  I  am  perfectly  crazy  on  the  subject  of  intellect.  If  I 
ever  marry — that  is  to  say,  if  I  ever  love — it  must  be  a 
genius  who  will  win  me. 

"  But  I  will  sail  soon,  and  be  once  more  in  your  arms, 
sweetest  Nora.  Then  you  will  know  exactly  what  I  am. 
I  feel  the  need  of  your  protecting  care  and  judgment, 
for  though  I  am  a  widow,  I  am  too  young  to  launch  forth 
alone  upon  the  great  sea  of  life.  And  you  have  always 
seemed  to  me  so  superior  in  education  and  character  to  the 
ladies  papa  entertained  at  home.  I  never  was  deceived  by 
your  position  as  my  nurse,  dearest  Nora ;  I  always  knew 
you  were  a  high-toned  lady  by  birth  !  And  though  you 
have  guarded  your  secret  so  completely  from  me  and  from 
all,  I  shall  ever  look  up  to  you  as  my  superior  in  character, 
and  rank,  and  goodness. 

"  This  brings  me  to  the  business  part  of  my  letter.  Nora,  I 
have  so  much  money,  that  I  am  at  a  loss  what  to  do  with  it. 
Mr.  Baltimore  was  so  successful  in  his  speculations  on  this 


STOEMCLIFF.  33 

side  of  the  water,  that  his  property  is  really  immense.  He 
gave  everything  to  me.  He  hated  the  few  relatives  he  had, 
and  I  have  reaped  the  benefit  of  that  hate.  Now  I  assure 
you,  dearest,  I  intend  to  have  a  good  time.  I  always  did 
love  to  spend  money,  and  now  I  expect  to  give  my  tastes  a 
free  rein.  The  property  is  invested  in  permanent  securities 
here,  and  here  it  shall  remain.  The  interest  flows  in  upon 
me  in  a  continuous  stream,  and  I  shall  spend  every  cent  of  it. 
A  large  sum  in  cash  was  left  in  bank  here,  and  that  only  will 
I  transfer  to  the  other  side.  Mr.  Baltimore's  homestead  on 
the  Hudson  is  mine  too,  and  I  shall  transform  that  into  a 
magnificent  place.  You  are  to  live  with  me,  and  in  whatever 
character  you  prefer.  But  with  me,  you  shall  live  for  ever. 
I  send  with  this  packet  drafts  payable  to  your  order ;  and 
now  I  will  tell  you  what  I  authorize  my  darling  Nora  to  do 
with  the  money.  I  expect  to  sail  in  May  next. 

"  Take  the  enclosed  letter  to  the  tenant  who  occupies  '  The 
Glen ;'  that  is  Mr.  Baltimore's  homestead.  It  is  fifteen 
miles  distant  from  papa's  place.  It  commands  a  fine  view  of 
the  river.  You  must  know  where  it  is,  I  am  sure.  Upon 
receiving  my  letter,  the  tenant  will  prepare  to  leave  the 
premises.  Then  send  for  the  artist  in  New  York  whose 
address  I  enclose  to  you,  and  whose  taste  is  admirable. 
Give  him  the  minute  instructions  in  regard  to  beautifying 
and  improving  '  The  Glen,'  which  I  send  in  this  packet 
In  case  of  discrepancy  of  taste,  your  decision  is  to  be  final. 

"  I  have  collected  a  great  number  of  elegant  paintings  and 
some  fine  statuary;  and  also  some  antique  bronzes  and 
fountains  for  embellishing  the  grounds.  Tell  him  to  spare 
no  expense  to  make  'The  Glen,'  the  gem  of  the  Hudson. 
Be  sure  to  arrange  your  own  apartments  to  suit  yourself,  if 
my  plan  of  your  rooms  is  not  satisfactory.  You  will  notice 
that  I  have  arranged  some  secret  doors  and  passages ;  you 
might  have  surmised  this  from  certain  elements  of  my 
character.  You  may  add  to  these,  if  you  like ;  and  then  you 
can  give  me  a  startling  surprise  some  day. 

2* 


34  STOEMCLIFF. 

"  Ton  will  see  from  my  instructions  to  the  artist,  that  I  in 
tend  to  entertain  a  great  deal  of  company.  The  selection  of 
all  the  servants  for  the  place  rests  with  you.  I  have  written 
to  papa  to  purchase  the  finest  carriage  and  saddle-horses  for 
my  stables.  He  is  such  a  splendid  horseman,  and  can  judge 
of  their  qualities. 

"  Now  everything  is  in  your  hands.  Have  all  in  readiness 
for  my  coming.  Recollect,  '  The  Glen  '  will  ever  be  your 
home,  my  dear  old  nurse,  and  that  I  shall  feel  proud  to  have 
you  assume  authority  there  ;  and  draw  upon  me  for  all  the 
funds  you  may  need  now  and  hereafter.  I  have  been  pre 
sented  with  a  full-blooded  Arabian  steed  by  an  English  noble 
man.  I  ride  constantly,  and  this  beautiful  horse  is  my  pride. 
His  color  is  snow  white.  His  name  is  '  Mirage  of  the  Desert, 
often  seen  in  the  distance,  but  never  overtaken.  You  will 
be  delighted  with  him. 

"And  now  good-by,  sweetest  Nora.  I  hope  you  will  love 
me  when  I  come.  I  shall  be  much  changed.  I  was  a  petted 
and  spoiled  child.  I  have  been  a  wretched  wife.  And  now 
I  am  a  proud  and  ambitious  widow.  You  only  can  make  me 
gentle  and  good.  Pray  for  me.  Goodness  knows  I  need  it. 

"  Ever  your  darling, 

"  GKACE  BALTIMORE." 

The  letter  fell  from  the  old  woman's  hand,  and  her  eyes 
fairly  blazed  with  some  hidden  joy.  The  secret  fountain  of 
old  memories,  long  suppressed,  was  suddenly  opened,  and 
that  desolate  heart  saw  the  hand  of  God  extended  to  her  by 
the  weary  wayside  of  life  in  touching  tenderness  and  cheer, 
She  fell  upon  her  knees,  and  extending  her  aged  arms  across 
the  old  Bible,  which  ever  crowned  her  table,  poured  forth  her 
thanks  to  Him  whose  goodness  had  offered  to  her  a  soothing 
balm  on  her  journey  to  the  grave.  To  her  lonely  life  memory 
and  hope  had  come  so  sweetly  hand  in  hand.  Was  it  not 
well  that  she  had  trusted  God,  now  that  her  old  age  was  to 
be  pillowed  in  ease  and  honor  ?  Had  He  not  watched  her 


STOEMCLIFF.  35 

patience  and  her  self-denial  as  she  leaned  over  the  cor.shes 
of  His  suffering  poor  ?  And  was  He  not  at  this  late  hour 
coming  to  bestow  the  reward  which  is  promised  even  in  this 
life,  to  those  who  serve  Him  ? 

She  arose  from  her  knees,  and  gathering  up  the  miniature 
and  the  letters,  packed  them  carefully  away  in  her  chest. 
Then  she  came  again  to  her  table,  and  leaning  her  forehead 
upon  her  hands,  studied  long  and  deeply.  She  would  accept 
the  charge  her  darling  had  offered  her.  It  entailed  much 
discretion,  much  delicacy  of  action  and  of  feeling,  and  much 
care.  The  pleasure  far  outweighed  the  care,  and  by  its  side, 
too,  was  duty.  She  knew  "  The  Glen  "  right  well ;  such  a 
lovely  place  to  live — such  a  sweet  place  to  die.  Perchance 
her  mission  was  to  guide  that  wild,  beautiful  woman  to  a 
closer  walk  with  God.  Her  own  example  at  least  should  be 
ever  present  to  Grace,  and  her  voice  ever  near  at  hand  to 
whisper  on  the  side  of  virtue.  The  memory  of  the  rescued 
suicide  was  blended  with  her  reverie,  and  she  could  not  avoid 
the  hope  and  the  prayer  that  he  might  eventually  win  place 
and  power,  and  sue  successfully  for  the  hand  of  the  brilliant 
young  widow.  And  while  the  happy  old  heart  pondered 
and  smiled  to  herself  alone,  the  angels  spread  over  her  the 
net  of  sleep,  and  she  dreamed  with  her  forehead  resting  in 
the  hollows  of  her  hands. 

While  Nora  slept,  Clarence  Holden  studied  and  transfer 
red  to  the  paper  before  him  thoughts  and  arguments  for  the 
political  campaign.  His  first  effort  had  been  a  success.  To 
the  surprise  of  his  political  friends,  and  indeed  of  the  whole 
village,  he  appeared  at  a  convention  called  by  his  party  for 
the  purpose  of  nominating  a  candidate  for  election  to  Con 
gress.  The  impression  had  been  general  that  he  would  re 
tire  into  utter  seclusion,  overwhelmed  with  dismay  and  shame. 
But  the  public  were  never  more  mistaken.  It  cost  his  pride 
and  sensitiveness  a  severe  trial  to  advance  into  the  presence 
of  men  who  were  inclined  to  follow  the  public  lead,  and  to 
think  that  it  was  really  a  disgrace  to  be  discarded  by  a 


36  STOKM  CLIFF. 

wealthy  father.  Resolutely,  and  with  a  frankness  of  man 
ner  which  was  innate,  he  extended  his  hand  to  his  old 
acquaintances,  and  by  the  very  force  of  his  address  com 
pelled  them  to  talk  to  him.  He  spoke  cheerfully  of  the 
party  prospects,  and  announced  his  determination  to  enter 
by  his  pen  and  voice  into  the  canvass.  He  found  in  the 
crowd  who  gathered  to  the  nominating  hall,  a  laboring  man 
who  was  indebted  to  him  for  many  favors.  He  found  the 
man  cordial  to  him,  and  at  heart  sorry  for  his  sudden  fall. 
At  his  request,  when  the  public  speaking  commenced,  the 
laborer  called  lustily  for  "  Holden !  Holden  !"  The  name 
sounded  strangely,  for  it  was  not  a  familiar  word  in 
political  conventions.  At  the  first  call,  ringing  clear  and 
with  emphasis  over  the  tumultuous  throng,  a  muscular  figure 
sprang  to  the  platform,  and  a  voice  instantly  pealed  forth 
above  every  sound  like  a  trumpet-call :  "  I  stand  in  the 
midst  of  a  party  where  the  poor  man  has  a  hearing." 

The  clear  powerful  voice  attracted  instant  attention.  The 
confusion  of  the  convention  subsided,  and  all -eyes  were 
turned  to  the  speaker.  The  erect  figure  and  the  broad  chest 
were  a  passport.  He  looked  like  a  man. 

"  I  stand  in  the  midst  of  a  party  where  the  struggling  and 
the  down-trodden  are  listened  to." 

The  voice  rose  louder  and  clearer  over  the  throng : 

"Aye!  and  by  the  virtue  and  the  sincerity  which  once 
dwelt  in  that  party,  I  claim  the  right  to  be  heard.  I  am  an 
outcast,  and  I  never  did  a  mean  act,  or  penned  an  unjust 
word,  or  deserted  the  right  for  the  sake  of  lucre  in  my 
whole  lifetime.  Why  I  am  unfortunate  and  cast  aside,  I 
know  not.  But  this  I  do  know :  I  see  in  the  broad  manly 
bosoms  which  heave  around  me — in  the  fearless,  honest  gaze 
of  the  eyes  which  read  me — that  a  young  man  so  faithful  to 
the  party  as  I  have  been  shall  be  heard.  I  am  going  into 
this  canvass  with  my  whole  soul.  Greater  principles  were 
never  at  stake,  and  greater  efforts  were  never  made  than  I 
shall  make  to  ensure  the  election  of  the  Honorable  George 


STORMCLIFF.  37 

Robinson  to  Congress.  Listen  to  my  reasons,  for  the  stamp 
of  eternal  truth  is  upon  them,  and  you  shall  see  them  cleave 
their  way  to  victory." 

Then  followed  the  most  carefully  digested  argument  which 
ever  rolled  away  in  thunder  over  the  souls  of  men.  The 
thoughts  were  the  burning  coinage  of  the  brain,  fashioned 
under  the  midnight  lamp,  and  stamped  with  the  die  of  a 
sincere  heart.  Sincerity  glances  to  the  brains  of  a  hushed 
crowd  like  a  voice  from  heaven.  The  earnest-minded  drank 
in  every  word  as  it  fell.  That  wonderful  voice  lulled  oft  into 
the  low  musical  monotone  of  recital ;  then,  like  a  mountain 
tornado,  it  gathered  force  in  going,  till  the  souls  of  the  lis 
teners  shook  like  forest  trees,  and  fire  thrilled  through  every 
throbbing  pulse.  The  poor  outcast  boy  of  the  Hudson  was 
inspired.  The  lonely  heart  trembled  with  the  might  of  his 
native  mountains,  and  soul  triumphed  over  prejudice  and 
caste. 

Oh !  the  wild,  thrilling  thunders  of  applause  drowning  the 
speaker's  voice,  wThich  never  faltered,  but,  clarion-like,  again 
and  again  broke  forth  over  the  tumult,  and  hushed  it  with 
regal  mastery  to  silence. 

At  last,  with  a  mighty  cadence,  his  arm  fell,  and  he  bowed 
hirnsel  away.  Victory. 

Honest  hands  grasped  him  on  every  side,  and  with  a  burn 
ing  brain  and  a  strange  lustre  in  his  eyes,  he  was  led  he 
knew  not  whither. 

The  lamp  burned  now  in  his  little  room  by  the  river,  and 
the  shadow  of  his  hurrying  pen  quivered  across  the  paper. 
At  last  the  speech  for  his  engagement  by  the  committee  was 
finished,  and  the  pen  fell.  Twenty-five  dollars  was  nearly 
earned.  Six  months  rent  of  his  little  house  was  nearly  paid. 
Bravo,  Nora!  your  risk  of  your  little  all  was  wisely  taken. 
You  have  nursed  now  the  fire  of  genius.  For  "  I  am  to  suc 
ceed — the  spirit  of  the  highlands  has  said  it." 

With  a  sigh  of  fatigue,  he  leaned  back  in  his  hard  arm 
chair,  and  closed  his  weary  eyes.  His  brain  was  overtasked. 


38  STORMCLIFF. 

He  had  studied  hard.  His  thoughts  were  yet  hovering  over 
his  exciting  speech,  and  the  blood  pressed  hotly  to  his  head. 
After  a  time,  a  reverie  led  him  off,  and  his  brow  grew  cool. 
Then  the  present  asserted  her  claims  to  attention.  An 
evenly  marked  sound  fell  upon  his  ear — tick,  tick,  tick.  He 
barely  noticed  it,  and  dreamed  away  again.  Then  a  louder 
summons  came.  A  whirring  sound  vibrated  in  the  silent 
room,  and  a  distinct,  solemn  stroke  fell  like  the  distant 
music  of  a  cathedral  bell.  One.  He  opened  his  eyes  upon 
his  only  friend  and  relative — the  stately,  time-worn,  solemn 
dock. 

"  Go  to  bed,  shall  I  ?  Well,  after  one  more  glance  into 
your  honest  old  face,  I  will.  Tell  me,  old  faithful,  who  am  I, 
and  who  are  you,  any  way?  You've  a  face,  and  a  voice, 
and  two  hands.  Give  me  some  sign  of  identity.  Tour  age 
entitles  you  to  be  heard.  Come,  old  centenarian,  own  up. 
Who  am  I?"  Tick,  tick,  tick.  "Who  are  you?"  Tick, 
*tick,  tick. 

"  Aged,  mysterious,  and  impenetrable — a  model  of  mind- 
your-business  and  keep-within-your-sphere.  But,  old  friend, 
I  tell  you  it  is  a  very  hard  case  that  you  know  all  about  me 
and  my  parents,  and  where  I  came  from,  and  yet  you  won't 
give  me  a  single  hint.  What  is  my  name  ?  What  shall  I 
call  myself?  Am  I  legitimate,  or  the  other  thing  ?  Am  I 
high-born  or  low-born  ?  Tell  me,  old  ticker,  am  I  nobility, 
or  am  I  scum  ?  Did  you  stand  by  when  I  was  born  ?  Did 
my  big  mouth  frighten  the  nurse  ?"  Tick — tick — tick.  "  Will 
you  answer  nothing  but  that  everlasting  tick?  But  you 
belong  to  me.  I  own  you.  I  love  you  because  I've  nothing 
else  to  love.  Give  me  your  hand — no!  You  won't,  eh? 
Well,  keep  your  hands  over  your  face  like  a  woman,  then." 

He  laughed  a  bright,  ringing  laugh — the  first  since  his 
hard  fate  was  announced  to  him.  Success  had  lightened, 'his 
heart.  Then  he  studied  the  old  clock  from  top  to  bottom. 
It  was  a  fine  specimen  of  the  olden  time.  It  stood  seven 
feet  in  height,  at  least.  It  was  cased  in  black  walnut,  and 


STOK3ICLIFF.  39 

its  brazen  face  was  polished  almost  to  silver  whiteness. 
Long  black  hands  stretched  nearly  across  the  face,  and  just 
above  their  reach,  near  the  top  of  the  dial-plate,  was  en 
graved  in  the  brass  the  following: 

"EDINBURGH,  17-3." 

It  had  also  the  wonderful  faculty  of  telling  the  day  of  the 
month,  in  a  little  circle  near  the  bottom  of  the  dial-plate, 
about  an  inch  in  diameter.  In  the  centre  of  this  circle  every 
morning,  without  fail,  appeared  the  figure  which  marked  the 
date. 

"  Ah !"  he  murmured  to  himself,  "  if  I  only  had  the  assur 
ance  that  my  ancestry  was  noble,  or  at  least  honorable,  how 
it  would  stimulate  me  to  struggle  to  maintain  that  "family 
repute !  Without  a  tie  to  bind  me  to  the  past — -without  a 
reminiscence — without  a  mother's  memory  to  soften  my 
heart — what  am  I  but  a  drifting  spar  upon  the  unknown  sea? 
What  shall  I  name  myself?  I  have  it — Adam.  He  was  in. 
the  same  unfortunate  position  as  myself.  He  had  no  ances 
tral  pride — not  he.  But  I  don't  like  the  name." 

A  sudden  thought  struck  him  ;  he  would  examine-  the 
clock — it  was  by  no  means  improbable  that  in  the  course 
of  one1  hundred  years  some  writing,  stamp,  or  mark  of  own 
ership  might  have  been  made  upon  it.  Inside  and  outside, 
top  and  bottom,  he  would  examine  it,  searching  for  a 
name — a  name  to  call  himself  by — a  name  to  paint  upon 
his  tin  lawyer's  sign  which  he  would  hang  outside  his 
little  office ;  a  name  to  transact  business  by,  to  marry  by 
and  to  engrave  upon  his  tombstone.  Under  this  new  impulse 
he  turned  the  key  and  opened  the  long,  narrow  door  in 
the  front  of  the  clock,  which  exposed  to  his  view  the  swing 
ing  pendulum.  He  held  his  lamp  inside  this  box,  but  not  a 
sign  of  a  name  was  apparent.  He  stood  up  in  his  chair  and 
held  the  lamp  over  the  dust-covered  top — nothing  there  ;  he 
examined  the  walnut  back — no  better  success ;  he  laid 
the  old  centenarian  at  full  length  upon  the  bare  floor  and 


40  STOKMCLIFF. 

examined  the  bottom— nothing  there ;  he  raised  the  clock 
again  to  a  dignified  position  and  started  the  pendulum.  It 
moved  off  with  a  triumphant,  baffling  tick,  tick,  tick.  He 
stood  with  his  arms  folded  contemplating  his  faithful  com 
panion,  and  with  a  bewildered  expression  on  his  earnest 
face.  •  It  was  too  much  for  human  endurance,  that  provoking, 
baffling  calmness  of  the  old  veteran  monitor.  He  advanced 
with  a  stride  close  to  it,  and  his  muscular  frame  swelled 
with  fury  and  his  hands  clenched  together.  The  word 
burst  from  him  like  a  trumpet  blast,  "  Speak  /" 

Still  the  calm  monotonous  reply  :  "  tick,  tick,  tick" 
His  right  hand  shot  out  from  his  shoulder  a  terrible  blow 
upon  the  walnut  case.  The  clock  careened  against  the  wall, 
for  a  young  giant  dealt  the  blow.  Hark !  What  was  that  ? 
Something  fell  inside  the  clock,  surely.  He  took  up  his 
lamp  and  opened  the  walnut  door.  Something  glistened  at 
the  bottom,  something  had  fallen  from  the  works.  It  was 
the  glimmer  of  brass.  It  was  oval.  A  locket,  by  all  the 
powers  of  good  luck  !  His  hand  trembled  as  it  clutched  it 
and  bore  it  away  to  the  table.  Eagerly  he  pressed  back  the 
clasp,  and  it  opened. 

"  O  God !"  he  whispered,  "  who  is  this  ?"  It  was  a 
young  mother,  evidently,  with  her  little  son  in  her  lap. 
The  child  might  be  seven,  but  his  features  were  strongly 
marked.  That  mouth  was  one  in  a  thousand,  and  its  dupli 
cate  was  that  of  the  nameless  lawyer.  He  kneeled  down  by 
the  table  and  pressed  his  cheek  against  the  lady  of  the 
locket.  "  My  mother,  my  mother ;  my  beautiful  mother, 
my  unknown  mother !"  He  held  it  from  him  and  studied  it 
with  earnest  gaze — with  agony.  O  you,  who  have  never  known 
what  it  is  to  be  utterly  alone ;  to  see  existence  only  as  a  rayless 
pall ;  to  feel  that  the  sweet  and  tender  yearnings  of  the  soul  go 
out  from  you  and  find  no  home,  no  outstretched  arms  of  sym 
pathy,  no  heart  of  refuge — bend  low  your  head  and  worship 
God  that  he  has  blest  you  with  the  gift  of  kindred !  With 
a  low  mournful  cry  he  talked  .to  her  and  studied  her  features. 


STORMCLIFF.         ,  41 

He  compared  them  with  the  features  of  the  child.  Her 
mouth  was  beautiful.  Otherwise  her  resemblance  to  her  son 
was  marked.  He  kneeled  long  by  the  table ;  he  marked 
not  the  flight  of  time  ;  he  was  engrossed;  he  was  soothed; 
he  prayed  God  to  make  him  worthy  of  that  dear  face.  Per 
chance  her  spirit  hovered  near  him  now.  He  would  fight 
the  life-battle  manfully  since  that  sweet  face  had  loved  him. 
No  shame  in  that  countenance.  Honor,  bright  honor,  and 
that  only.  With  a  sigh  of  relief,  he  closed  the  locket  aftd 
placed  it  under  his  pillow.  Then  he  righted  the  old  clock, 
and  it  commenced  ticking  away,  utterly  regardless  of  the 
insult  which  had  been  offered  to  its  dignity.  He  retired 
to  his  bed  and  slept,  not  however  until  the  mellow  cathedral 
chime  of  the  clock  struck  three. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

~No  wonder  she  paused  to  dream,  with  her  hand  upon  the 
porter's  gate.  The  soft  misty  sunshine  of  October  flooded 
the  woodlands  and  the  meadows  of  the  estate.  The  leaves 
of  the  oaks  and  maples  were  changed,  but  few  of  them  had 
fallen  yet  into,  the  sunlit  emerald  of  the  grass.  Shadows 
trailed  upon  that  grass,  and  close  beside  them  fell  golden 
showers  from  the  slanting  rays  of  the  sun.  Under  the  low 
branches  of  the  scattered  trees  the  eye  ranged  over  a  great 
park;  vistas  in  every  direction  of  oaks  and  maples  joining 
arms  and  revelling  in  the  sun.  And  far  down  the  gravelled 
avenue,  across  which  swung  the  porter's  gate,  the  dusky 
outlines  of  an  antique  dwelling  crowned  a  gentle  hill. 
Silence  held  a  wizard's  sceptre  over  the  landscape,  and  the 
estate  was  dreaming.  The  oaks  and  maples,  wrapped  in 
their  scarlet  and  pur  pie  mantles,  were  dreaming;  the  warm 
sunshine  lay  stretched  upon  the  soft  grass  dreaming,  and 
the  hazy  blue  of  the  sky  was  dreaming.  The  deserted,  far- 


42  STOEMCLIFF. 

off  mansion  was  dreaming,  and  the  hushed  atmosphere  of 
the  autumn  was  dreaming  too.  What  wonder,  then,  that 
she  should  dream  under  the  magic  influence'  of  the  hour. 
What  wonder  that  the  hazy  faces  and  the  muffled  bells  of 
the  olden  time  should  faintly  smile  and  gently  chime. 

Was  it  only  the  fancy  of  her  dreaming  old  heart  ?  Was 
it  only  the  illusion  of  the  memory  bell?  Far  down  the 
avenue  a  sunbeam  quivered  through  the  trees,  and  fluttered 
to  the  grass  to  sleep.  She  thought  it  was  a  child  playing 
upon  the  greensward.  Hush!  was  not  that  voice  the  ring 
ing  laugh  of  merry  childhood  under  the  old  trees  ?  A 
cheerful  face  looked  suddenly  out  from  the  window  of  the 
distant,  silent  house,  a.nd  a  thin,  white  hand  beckoned  to 
the  child.  Ah,  no  ;  it  was  only  the  slowly  veering  sun  which 
turned  a  passing  smile  upon  the  old  window-frame,  and  then 
upon  the  vine-leaves  of  the  stone  pillar  of  the  porch. 
Surely  the  heart  is  not  deceived  this  time ;  a  bold  rider  is 
coming  down  under  the  motionless  branches,  and  a  fair  girl, 
robed  in  snowy  white,  is  running  beside  his  horse  in  laugh 
ing  rivalry.  No,  aged  eyes  and  dreaming  heart ;  'tis  only 
that  maple  trunk  has  fallen  into  shade,  and  the  sunbeams 
light  its  neighbor  oak. 

Come  on,  come  on,   along  the   avenue,  for  the  past  is 
1  buried,  and  regrets  are  idle. 

The  iron  gate  swung  to  with  a  clang,  and  the  dreamer 
entered  the  deserted  park.  Slowly  she  walked  in  the  sun 
shine  for  a  time,  along  the  smoothly  beaten,  gravelled  car 
riage  way.  But  presently  the  oaks  and  maples  spread  their 
fantastic  cloaks  above  her  head,  and  she  walked  in  their 
shadow.  Now  a  broad  belt  of  sunshine  crossed  the  avenue, 
and  now  she  walked  again  in  shadow.  Then  a  scarlet  fallen 
leaf  crushed  under  her  foot,  and  the  reproachful  shadows 
struck  her  in  the  face  with  their  dark  palms.  The  avenue 
led  her  slowly  on  to  a  rustic  bridge  of  unhewn  oak,  and  the 
rippling  water  below  bade  her  a  laughing  welcome.  She 
stopped  for  an  instant  to  look  at  the  speckled  trout,  but  they 


STORMCLIIT.     '  43 

darted  in  terror  under  the  low,  weeping  willows,  and  she 
passed  on.  It  was  a  royal  road  she  travelled,  sentinelled  by 
many  a  veteran  oak  in  purple  mantle.  She  cast  one  look 
behind  her  at  the  distant  roof  of  the  porter's  lodge,  and 
beyond  it  she  saw  the  white  sails  gliding  on  the  Hudson. 
She  continued  on  then  till  the  full  proportion  of  the  silent, 
antique  mansion  rose  solemn  and  stately  before  her,  Then, 
for  the  first  time,  met  her  ear  the  dash  of  a  tiny  waterfall. 
The  stream  which  she  had  crossed  swept  southward,  and 
after  a  detour  within  the  enclosure  of  the  park  of  more 
than  a  mile,  came  round  again  to  the  south  side  of  the  man 
sion,  where  it  disappeared  in  a  rocky  glen  bordered  by  low, 
dense  pines.  The  water  of  the  stream  seldom  sufficed  to 
raise  the  plashing  music  of  the  waterfall.  In  summer  it  was 
never  heard,  save  after  torrents  of  rain,  and  the  usual  sound 
from,  the  secluded  glen  was  only  the  sighing  of  the  pines. 

The  broad  carriage-road  now  swept  round  in  a  great 
curve  to  the  porch,  forming  a  huge  circle  in  front  of  the 
mansion.  The  oaks  and  the  maples  stood  aloof  from  this 
circle,  which  was  covered  only  with  grass.  No  trees  were 
planted  in  it,  lest  the  view  of  the  Hudson  from  the  windows 
might  be  impeded.  Every  lower  window  on  the  front  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  blue  river  at  the  foot  of  the  slope 
beyond  the  porter's  lodge.  From  the  parlors  of  the  lower 
story  the  eye  ranged  under  the  branches  of  the  trees  for 
miles  up  and  down  the  stream.  The  view  from  the  second 
story  was  cut  off  by  the  foliage,  but  an  immense  open  cupola 
on  the  roof  afforded  a  magnificent  range  for  the  eye  over 
the  tree-tops,  and  the  river,  and  the  whole  country  as  far  as 
the  mountains  of  the  highlands.  This  cupola  was  nothing 
but  a  circular  seat  around  the  large  glass  dome  which 
lighted  the  great  central  room  of  the  house. 

The  stately  outline  of  the  mansion's  front,  with  its  tall 
sharp  gable,  was  ornamented  by  the  ivy  which  climbed  over 
it  and  clung  to  it  till  its  ancient  stone-work  was  nearly 
veiled  from  sight.  Over  the  porch,  too,  it  climbed  and 


44  6TORMCLIFF. 

wreathed  itself  about  the  stone  pillars,  and  nodded  from 
their  capitals.  The  immense  building  was  fonned  of  grey 
stone,  and  looked  competent  to  sustain  the  storms  of  cen 
turies.  The  trees  had  been  carefully  excluded  from  its 
neighborhood,  and  the  bright  sunlight  had  uninterrupted 
sway  to  cheer  and  bless  it  with  genial  warmth.  On  the 
south  side,  a  broad  piazza,  with  stone  columns,  extended  and 
looked  upon  the  immense  garden  and  graperies  which 
reached  entirely  down  to  the  pine-bordered  glen. 

"  The  Glen"  had  been  the  homestead  of  the  Baltimore 
family  for  more  than  a  hundred  years.  The  original  pro 
prietor  had  accumulated  a  large  fortune,  and  having  pur 
chased  this  tract  of  forest  land,  gradually  thinned  out  the 
timber  until  the  park  assumed  its  present  form.  He  built 
also  the  stone  mansion  for  himself  and  his  descendants,  and 
declared  that  it  should  be  made  durable  enough  to  furnish 
a  home  for  the  Baltimore  name  until  he  was  long  forgotten. 
His  descendants  had  taken  great  pride  in  preserving  the 
dwelling  and  the  giant  trees  intact.  They  had  resembled 
their  ancestor  in  industry,  and  were  ever  regarded  as  a 
prosperous  race  of  men.  The  Baltimore  who  had  willed 
the  property  to  the  daughter  of  Nicholas  Traver,  was  the 
first  of  his  family  who  was  bold  enough  to  alienate  the 
noble  ancestral  estate.  He  had  no  children,  and  had  quar 
relled  with  his  few  relatives.  In  a  moment  of  bitterness  and 
revenge  for  a  fancied  slight,  he  had  drawn  his  will  and 
given  everything  to  his  young  wife.  He  was  well  known 
to  have  been  subject  to  spasms  of  ungovernable  temper; 
and  in  one  of  these  terrible  periods  he  had  alienated  every 
thing  from  his  own  blood.  This  will  had  been  drawn 
shortly  after  the  singular  marriage,  and  was  the  only  one 
found  after  his  decease.  The  fortunate  issue  of  his  lar«-e 

O 

speculations  abroad  had  given  him  an  immense  property, 
independent  of  anything  he  had  received  from  his  ancestor. 
Nevertheless,  his  rage  was  so  intense  that  he  devised  away 
the  pride  of  his  family  and  the  homestead  of  his  father. 


STOBMCLIFF.  45 

And  here  "reposed  the  deserted  and  lovely  estate  in  the 
warm  embrace  of  the  October  sun.  The  tenant  who  had 
occupied  two  small  rooms  in  the  rear  part  of  the  dwelling, 
merely  for  the  purpose  of  guarding  the  property  and  keep 
ing  it  in  order  for  the  owner's  return  from  abroad,  had 
taken  his  departure,  and  the  key  was  left  in  possession  of  old 
Nora,  the  prophetess.  She  had  come  to  take  possession  in 
behalf  of  the  young  widow,  to  examine  the  site  of  the  pro 
jected  improvements,  and  prepare  herself  to  comprehend 
the  plans  which  she,  in  connection  with  the  artist,  was  ex 
pected  to  execute  before  the  return  of  summer. 

What  a  commentary  upon  the  vicissitudes  of  life  was 
that  tall,  dark  mourner,  seating  herself  upon  the  steps  of  the 
porch,  and  taking  in  at  a  glance  the  glorious  beauty  of  her 
new  home.  The  pilgrim  of  sixty  winters — the  old  raven- 
haired  nurse  of  the  humble  cottage,  seating  herself  in  the 
gate  of  affluence,  with  the  key  of  honor  and  of  power  in  her 
aged  hand!  "Was  it  not  a  dream?  that  hazy,  sunlit,  royal 
park  stretching  away  in  emerald,  scarlet,  golden  loveliness 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach  ?  Were  the  luscious  clusters  of 
purple  grapes,  which  hung  from  the  garden  trellis  in  such 
wanton  abundance,  real?  Were  the  orchards  of -rosy  apples 
and  golden  pears  real?  Were  the  rich  colors  of  exotic 
flowers  pressing  against  the  greenhouse  sashes  real  ?  Were 
the  plashing  fountains  of  the  garden  real  ?  What  would  it 
be,  then,  in  the  coming  summer,  when  the  hand  of  art  should 
have  been  extended  over  it — when  the  sceptre  of  the  beauti 
ful  should  wave  above  it — when  the  antlered  deer  should 
bound  under  its  branches — when  noble  steeds  should  fly 
along  its  avenues,  and  beautiful  faces  of  women  look  from 
its  windows — when  music  should  murmur  along  its  halls, 
and  voices  of  mirth  echo  over  the  greensward — aye !  more, 
when  the  face  of  her  darling  Grace,  the  queen  of  the  estate, 
should  look  up  with  beaming  eyes,  and  whisper,  "  I  love  you, 
Nora !  Oh,  how  dearly  I  love  you,  the  only  mother  I  have 
ever  known !" 


46  STORMCLIFF. 

Is  she  not  grateful  to  her  Father  in  heaven' thus  to  bless 
her  ?  Is  not  her  old  heart  full  of  exultant  rapture  that 
He  has  chosen  this  beautiful  place  for  her  to  die?  Alas! 
strange  inconsistency  of  human  nature — unaccountable  lack 
of  gratitude.  The  old  woman  bowed  her  head  upon  the 
porch  of  the  mansion,  and  sobbed  as  if  her  poor  old  heart 
would  break.  And  there  she  lingered,  and  moaned,  and 
wept,  till  the  October  sun  went  down. 

********** 

Hush !  a  proud  soul  is  struggling.  Softly  draw  aside  the 
ancient  drapery  and  look  in.  A  lamp  burns  on  an  ottoman  ; 
the  only  light  of  a  shadowy  and  far-reaching  room.  The 
intercepted  rays  cast  grotesque  shadows  on  the  wall.  A 
fearful  silence  reigns.  Naught  moves  but  a  passion-heaving 
bosom.  Naught  sounds  but  a  woman's  painful  breathing. 
She  has  flung  herself  upon  the  floor,  near  the  lamp,  to  study 
a  portrait  lying  on  a  cushion  on  the  scarlet  carpet.  She  took 
it  from  its  place  upon  the  wall,  and  laid  it  there,  resting 
against  the  cushion,  that  she  might  the  better  study  it.  Do 
the  passions  fade  with  age  ?  Look  at  her.  Does  tenderness 
die  out  and  pride  fail  when  the  winter  of  sixty  comes  on  ? 
Look  at  her  again.  Her  keen  eye  searches  out  every  linea 
ment  of  that  strange  face.  Her  lip  quivers  as  she  detects 
the  subtile  lines  of  pathos  about  the  mouth  and  the  lustrous 
tenderness  of  the  dark  eyes.  The  painting  wears  evident 
marks  of  age ;  even  the  fanciful  gilding  of  the  frame  is  tar 
nished,  and  scales  off  in  spots.  The  dress,  too,  is  the  fashion 
of  the  olden  time,  and  the  curling  hair  is  surmounted  by  a 
singular  velvet  cap,  triangular  in  shape,  and  black'  in  color, 
with  silken  tassels  pendent  from  the  corners.  Why  has  she 
selected  that  from  all  the  array  of  portraits,  young  and  old, 
which  look  down  upon  her  from  the  walls  with  stern  or 
smiling  mien?  Ah!  a  touching  memory  lurks  in  it:  a 
memory  so  tender,  so  powerful  over  brain  and  heart.  Aye  ! 
a  memory  so  awful  in  its  influence  that  it  has  led  the  aged 
woman  trembling  to  the  verge  of  crime.  What  is  her  pur- 


STOEMCLIFF.  47 

pose?  Why  was  it  taken  down,  and  why  does  she  glance 
fearfully  at  every  door  and  window,  raising  her  wild,  glitter 
ing  eyes  from  contemplation  of  the  picture  ?  She  means  to 
steal  it.  Her  first  act,  after  unbounded  confidence  bestowed 
upon  her,  is  to  be  theft.  False  to  her  trust.  The  epithet 
stings  her.  At  the  thought,  she  springs  to  her  feet.  Her 
figure  casts  a  tall  shadow  on  the  wall.  She  false?  The  blood 
heated  in  her  veins  at  the  word.  Then  the  voice  of  God 
kindly  whispered,  "Ask  for  it — ask  Grace — she  will  likely 
give  it  to  you."  Ask  f  Nora  Rudd  ask  for  that  from  any 
living  woman?  Death — torture — first.  Betray  her  secret 
to  the  world  ?  acknowledge  all  ?  shrink  from  her  height  of 
pride  low  down  into  the  depths  of  humility  at  the  feet  of 
another  woman  ?  Never.  And  would  she  forfeit  all  the 
merit  of  her  exemplary  life,  all  the  struggles  to  live  near  her 
God,  all  her  hopes  of  eternal  life,  to  the  indulgence  of  this 
late  temptation,  which  beckoned  to  her  on  the  very  verge  of 
her  grave  ?  With  the  door  of  Eternity  close  before  her, 
would  she  yield  to  the  last  allurement  of  Time?  She 
kneeled  down,  and,  clasping  her  hands  over  the  picture, 
prayed  God  to  forgive  her,  to  soften  her  heart,  to  smoothe 
her  path  before  her.  Then  she  wept  bitterly.  "No!  no!  it 
is  not  mine  ;  I  have  never  betrayed  a  trust ;  better  far  to  fly 
from  this  place,  and  wander  off  beyond  the  reach  of  human 
recognition,  than  be  false  to  her  who  loves  me.  If  that  por 
trait  remains  in  this  room,  I  never  will — I  never  can." 

Her  eyes  fell  once  more  upon  the  countenance  of  the  pic 
ture.  That  gaze  recalled  her  pride.  The  stern  passion  grap 
pled  her  again,  and  the  voice  of  conscience  died  away  in  fee 
ble  whispers.  The  Evil  One,  with  ready  tact,  suggested  a 
compromise,  plausible  and  tenable  for  a  time.  Hide  the  por 
trait  for  the  present — hide  it  till  Grace  should  come — then 
inform  her  of  all.  How  well  he  knew  the  acceptance  of  his 
compromise  was  the  final  acceptance  of  his  whole  tempta 
tion.  Once  hidden,  for  ever  hidden ;  her  pride  had  then  only 
to  remain  passive,  reticent.  There  would  really  be  nothing 


48  STORMCLIFF. 

left  but  to  remain  silent  concerning  an  old  picture  about 
which  the  owner  would  never  care  a  straw.  The  compro 
mise  was  accepted.  She  would  not  steal,  but  only  hide  for  a 
time  until  the  owner  could  properly  be  consulted.  Then  all 
would  be  well,  and  the  dreadful  world  would  never  know. 
Under  the  influence  of  the  temporary  relief,  she  took  up 
her  lamp  and  walked  to  the  great  oaken  mantel  over  the 
huge  fireplace.  She  placed  her  •  lamp  upon  the  end  of  the 
mantel,  and  then  stooping  down,  pressed  with  both  hands  vigo 
rously  against  the  oaken  wainscot  which  lined  the  walls  of 
the  apartment  for  nearly  four  feet  in  height.  One  of  the 
panels  gave  way,  and  swung  back  on  hinges  into  the  wall 
of  the  house.  The  hinges  were  long  disused,  and  yielded 
reluctantly.  In  this  strange  opening  she  hid  the  portrait, 
and  swung  the  panel  back  to  its  place  by  grasping  the  wooden 
cap  on  the  wainscot  which  had  swung  inward  with  it.  No 
stranger  would  ever  dream  of  a  closet  there.  How  had  Nora 
ever  discovered  it  ?  She  certainly  could  respond  without  dif 
ficulty  to  the  request  in  the  young  widow's  letter  to  treat  her 
to  the  surprise  of  a  secret  door. 

Taking  up  the  lamp  again,  she  passed  along  the  apartment, 
pausing  occasionally  to  study  the  faces,  of  the  Baltimore 
family,  and  lingering  long  before  the  portrait  of  a  young 
man  in  a  hunting  suit  of  yellow  buckskin,  holding  a  gun. 
The  face  was  sharply  cast,  like  a  Grecian  beauty,  and  the 
dark  eyes  were  gentle  as  a  woman's.  Then  she  turned  to 
inspect  the  furniture,  passing  slowly  from  room  to  room, 
and,  occasionally,  removing  the  linen  covers  from  the  chairs 
and  sofas  to  examine  the  condition  of  the  red  damask  seats. 
The  furniture  was  antique  in  pattern  and  carving.  The  dark 
mahogany  tables  and  chairs  had  lions'  claws  for  feet,  carved 
in  the  wood.  The  sofa  legs  were  griffins  with  wings 
expanded  upwards  for  supports  to  the  seat.  She  knew  the 
damask  covers  would  have  to  be  renewed,  but  was  confident 
the  carving  of  the  furniture  would  be  allowed  to  remain 
where  it  was,  on  account  of  its  grotesque  beauty.  The  tar- 


STORMCLIFF.  49 

nished  gilding,  and  the  huge  rings  of  the  cornice  of  the  cur 
tains,  would  have  to  come  down,  either  to  be  regilded  or  to  be 
removed  altogether ;  and  the  faded  tapestry  curtains  would 
unquestionably  be  condemned  to  the  seclusion  of  the  garret. 
The  doors  of  the  rooms  were  of  solid  oak,  and  in  the  centre 
of  each  was  carved  the  arms  of  the  Baltimore  family,  in  relief. 
The  original  proprietor  had  married  the  daughter  of  a 
Huguenot  refugee  in  England,  of  noble  birth ;  and  being  him 
self  related  to  a  noble  family,  but  untitled,  and  enjoying 
wealth  only  through  his  own  industry  and  perseverance,  he 
adopted,  at  her  request,  the  arms  of  her  family  as  his  own, 
viz.  a  stag  supporting  upon  his  horns  a  lance  in  rest,  with 
the  significant  motto  "  Alerte."  It  was  said  of  the  founder 
of  this  American  house  that  he  was  prone  to  laugh  at  his 
coat-of-arms,  and  declare  it  was  adopted  to  humor  a  woman's 
fancy.  He  rather  relished  the  motto  "  Alerte,"  as  it  pro 
perly  belonged  to  any  man  who  was  able  to  make  his  own 
way  in  the  world  ;  but  as  for  the  rest,  he  referred  all  inquirers 
to  his  Huguenot  wife.  But  it  was  noticed,  in  spite  of  this 
protest,  he  was  always  the  first  to  mark  his  oaken  panels,  his 
silver  and  his  coach,  his  books  and  his  china,  with  the  ever 
lasting,  ever  graceful  stag,  with  lance  in  rest.  The  heral 
dic  assumption,  however,  had  become  sanctified  in  the  esti 
mation  of  his  descendants  by  its  age,  and  was  stamped  on 
business  wax  on  every  favorable  opportunity.  The  deeds 
and  conveyances  of  the  family  were  not  deemed  suffi 
ciently  solemn  without  the  Baltimore  stag  and  lance  in  the 
corner  wax.  Since  that  adoption  by  the  Baltimore  family 
of  a  strange  seal,  the  practice  has  fairly  run  riot  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  But  what  was  to  become  of  the  stag 
and  lance  now  ?  The  estate  had  passed  into  strange  hands. 
In  all  human  probability,  the  great  seal  had  been  given  to 
the  young  widow,  too.  What  would  she  do  with  it  ?  Pro 
bably  adopt  it  for  her  future  family,  and  pass  it  down  two 
or  three  generations  of  descendants,  until  the  estate  should 
pass  into  strange  hands  again,  when  it  would  stamp  the  wax 

3 


50  STOBMCLIFP. 

of  a  new  race,  who  in  turn  should  adopt  it.  These  reflections 
flitted  through  the  old  woman's  brain,  as  she  continued  her 
inspection  of  the  lonely  house.  Finally,  she  reached  a  door, 
which  admitted  her  to  the  immense  circular  apartment  which 
was  lighted  solely  from  the  glass  dome  above.  This  room 
-was  the  original  Baltimore's  especial  idea  and  favorite.  He 
always  maintained  that  the  dining-hall  of  a  dwelling  should 
be  the  largest,  best  lighted,  and  most  attractive  gathering- 
spot  of  the  family.  That  the  room  should  be  circular,  the 
table  circular,  and  the  light  should  fall  from  a  circular  win 
dow  directly  upon  the  centre  of  the  family  group.  No  mat 
ter  how  numerous  his  guests  might  be,  the  wonderful  round 
table  always  extended  to  meet  their  wants.  Sections  after 
sections  were  added  to  it,  until  it  was  competent  to  seat  one 
hundred  guests.  The  walls  were  lined  with  the  most  luxu 
rious  divans  of  red  damask,  where  one  could  lounge  upon 
the  cushions  and  read  by  the  hour  choice  works  from  the 
libraries  on  every  wall.  The  choicest  engravings  graced  its 
walls,  and  antlers  of  the  deer  slain  by  his  own  hand,  stood 
erect  upon  the  oaken  book  cases.  The  projector  of  this  din- 
ing-hall  had  long  since  closed  his  eyes  to  material  affairs,  but 
his  genial  spirit  seemed  to  haunt  the  spot ;  and  years  after 
years  of  high  revelry  or  more  dignified  comfort  in  this  apart 
ment,  had  attested  the  sense  of  the  founder's  judgment  in 
selecting  this  for  the  living  room  of  the  house.  It  was  nearly 
impossible  to  keep  out  of  it.  Every  hall  seemed  to  lead  to  it, 
every  door  to  open  into  it,  and  every  staircase  to  descend  to 
it.  One  never  suffered  from  a  cold  draught  if  indisposed  for  it, 
and  never  wanted  a  cool  breeze  there  in  the  season  for  it. 
The  floor  was  always  covered  with  the  softest  carpets,  muf 
fling  entirely  the  footfall  of  servants,  and  the  sections  of  the 
round  table  were  bound  in  red  baize  which  emitted  no  sound 
in  fitting  together.  Over  the  top  of  every  door  was  a  globe 
lamp  suspended  from  the  neck 'of  a  graceful  figure,  a  silver 
stag  with  silver  horns,  and  a  lance  in  rest. 

Nora  passed  on  through  this  apartment,  cheerful  in  look 


STOEMCLIFF.  51 

(notwithstanding  the  absence  of  guests,  and,  indeed,  the 
absence  of  all  life  for  six  years),  and  entered  a  hall  be 
yond,  which  ran  between  suites  of  rooms,  whose  windows 
looked  into  the  gardens  on  either  side.  At  the  termination 
of  this  hall  was  a  door  which  would  admit  her  to  the  maho 
gany  sideboards,  where  the  valuables  of  the  mansion  were 
kept.  The  door  was  made  of  very  heavy  planks  of  oak, 
riveted  together  with  iron  rivets,  whose  projecting  bosses 
seemed  to  defy  all  burglarious  attempts  to  reach  the  silver 
and  valuables  within.  It  yielded,  however,  to  the  huge  brass 
key  which  she  drew  from  her  pocket,  and  slowly  swung 
back  upon  its  creaking  hinges.  There  was  no  window,  and 
no  means  of  forcing  an  entrance,  save  by  the  heavy  door. 
She  advanced  to  the  first  sideboard,  and,  turning  the  little 
silver  key,  threw  open  its  folding-doors.  A  blaze  of  light 
from  the  silver  plate  and  the  golden  tankards  answered  the 
glimmering  rays  of  her  lamp.  Rows  of  heavy  spoons,  mugs, 
and  castors,  and  bowls,  all  of  solid*  silver,  were  carefully 
arranged  on  the  shelves,  and  on  each  one  was  engraved  the1 
stag  and  lance  of  the  Baltimores.  Much  of  the  plate  was 
very  ancient,  and  showed  signs  of  the  wear  of  a  century. 
But  many  articles  were  of  recent  date,  and  bore  the  initials 
"  G.  B."  engraved  upon  them. 

"  That  will  do  for  Grace,  too,"  Nora  murmured  to  herself. 
"  Gertrude  Baltimore — or  Grace  Baltimore — who  will  know 
the  difference  ?" 

She  turned  another  silver  key,  and  swung  open  other 
doors  of  the  rich  treasury.  The  same  flashing  response  to 
her  lamp's  rays  was  elicited.  The  sideboards  contained  the 
accumulations  of  a  wealthy  family  for  more  than  a  century. 
The  thought  occurred  to  her  that  prudence  might  have  pre 
ferred  the  vaults  of  a  bank  to  the  custody  of  a  single  tenant 
friend  for  all  this  tempting  treasure.  Hark !  Something 
surely  moved  in  the  silent  house.  She  held  her  lamp  with 
a  firmer  grip,  and  pressed  the  other  hand  upon  her  startled 
heart.  She  held  her  breath — a  stealthy  footstep  was  surely 


52  8TOKMCLIFF. 

approaching.  She  darted  to  the  heavy  door  to  snatch  out 
the  key  and  lock  it  from  the  inside.  Her  hand  grasped  the 
key  and  drew  it  out,  and,  seizing  the  door,  she  gave  it  a 
bang  to.  Too  late !  A  hand  was  seen  entering  the  room, 
and  the  closing  door  caught  an  arm,  and  could  not  shut. 
The  door  was  instantly  flung  so  violently  backwards,  that  her 
lamp  was  extinguished ;  and  she  was  alone  with  him  in  total 
darkness  I 


CHAPTER  V. 

MAKIE  HERON  was  beautiful  as  a  poet's  dream.  The  rose- 
flush  never  left  her  fair  round  cheeks ;  the  cherry  lips  were 
ever  dewy,  and  the  large  blue  eyes,  so  tender  or  so  passion 
ate,  were  ever  expanding  their  pupils  to  the  passing  emotion, 
and  revealing  shades  of  color  from  violet  to  dazzling  black ; 
and  yet  in  perfect  repose,  and  lighted  by  the  bright  sun's 
rays,  they  were  only  dark  liquid-blue.  Her  hair  was  heavy, 
of  a  light-brown  hue,  and  wandered  free  upon  her  neck 
and  plump  white  shoulders  hi  long  curls.  Her  height  was 
medium,  her  bust  full,  her  waist  slender,  and  her  step  like 
the  elastic,  noiseless  tread  of  a  fawn.  One  never  heard  her 
approach ;  she  did  not  walk  in — she  only  appeared.  Her 
movements  were  like  her  nature,  gentle.  Her  soul  was  full 
of  images,  and  the  subtile  fire,  poetry,  thrilled  her  veins,  and 
oftentimes  broke  forth  in  song.  Her  nature  shrank  from 
rudeness  or  vulgarity,  as  did  her  sensitive  nerves  from  the 
cold  winds  of  her  native  clime.  Tenderness — worship — self- 
sacrifice — music — song — generosity,  charity — were  as  really 
parts  of  herself  as  her  physical  symmetry.  Such  was  Marie 
Heron  by  birth.  Devotion  and  intellect  had  rocked  her 
cradle — affluence  and  luxury,  like  a  rainbow,  arched  the 
sky  of  her  girlhood ;  and  now  she  stood  upon  the  shore  of 
womanhood,  patting  its  golden  sands  with  her  fawn-foot, 


STOKMCLIFF.  53 

and  dreaming  of  the  manly  barque  which  should  come  to 
bear  away  the  precious  freight  of  her  heart's  treasures. 

Such  tender,  sensitive,  refined  souls  spread  their  sails  upon 
the  sea  of  mature  life  under  imminent  hazard,  under  cruel 
disadvantages.  They  have  faith  in  every  wind  ;  they  never 
take  in  sail,  and,  often,  their  only  compass  is  refined  passion. 
Love  of  the  beautiful  lures  them  on  ;  and,  in  contemplation 
of  the  star,  they  forget  the  rock.  With  natures  which  may 
develop  the  martyr  and  the  saint,  with  intellects  susceptible 
of  rendering  wide  circles  of  the  human  race  happier  and 
better,  they  fail  to  perfect  their  mission  from  want  of  a 
single  requisite.  That  requisite  is  a  pilot ;  that  pilot  is  reli 
gion.  Ah !  must  that  hackneyed  word  always  start  up  before 
refined,  yearning,  earnest  hearts? — that  word  which  signi 
fies  so  little  in  cant,  so  much  in  truth?  Aye!  that  word 
will  ever  arise  and  haunt  the  intellectual  and  the  thoughtful 
till  the  eye  closes  and  the  sod  covers.  The  aspiration  after 
something  higher  and  still  unattained,  the  consciousness  that 
this  poor,  wandering,  yearning,  erring  heart  is  susceptible 
of  improvement,  cultivation,  purification,  flight  upwards,  is 
the  germ  from  which  springs  the  doctrine,  God. 

Marie  Heron  had  only  the  poetry  of  religion.  The  softly 
stealing  strains  of  devotional  melody,  the  musical  intonation 
of  the  prayer,  the  beautiful  regularity  of  divine  service,  the 
mere  offspring  of  religion,  she  mistook  for  the  parent  itself. 
Oh !  it  is  easy  to  worship  regularly  and  beautifully,  to  go 
with  the  quiet  crowd  and  return  with  it,  and  be  like  it ;  to 
share  its  prejudices,  and  deviate  never  from  its  circle.  But 
the  Master  of  the  world  came  to  the  Church,  trampled  upon 
it,  and  scattered  it  to  the  four  winds  of  heaven.  He  destroy 
ed  his  own  foundation,  and  built  another,  because  the  first 
had  lost  the  breath  of  life  He  had  once  breathed  into  it.  He 
came  for  the  down-trodden,  the  outcast,  the  unfortunate, 
and  Marie  did  not  know  it ;  she  dreamed  He  came  for  the 
beautiful,  the  harmonious,  the  poetical,  the  kneeling,  the 
regular.  She  fancied  when  He  said,  u  Follow  me,"  He  meant, 


54  STORMCLIFF. 

"  Follow  the  crowd,  with  its  maxims  and  its  prejudices,  as 
they  move  along  to  the  solemn  chime  of  the  church-bells." 
How  little  she  dreamed  He  intended  her  to  turn  to  the  first, 
poor,  lonely,  forsaken  soul  that  was  within  reach  and  com 
fort  it,  in  despite  of  the  church,  and  in  despite  of  the  world 
outside  of  the  Church ! 

How  startled,  then,  was  this  beautiful  being,  when  her 
reverend  father,  the  erect,  stately  clergyman,  with  the  drifts 
of  grey  hair  gathering  fast  in  his  black  locks,  descended 
from  his  closet  with  traces  of  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  seating 
himself  beside  her  in  the  drawing-room,  said : 

"  Marie !  we  must  make  a  sacrifice  for  God.  There  is  a 
world  of  self-denial  in  your  nature — would  that  I  had  the 
key  to  it." 

She  looked  up  curiously  from  her  book  to  a  face  which  was 
her  world  since  her  mother  was  buried  under  the  snow-drifts. 

"  Father,  is  it.  the  poor  ?" 

"  Not  as  you  mean  by  that  term,  Marie.  It  is  not  a  case 
of  food  or  raiment." 

"  Is  it,  then,  to  forgive  Louise  Stanford,  for  her  slanderous 
remarks  about  me  ?  It  will  be  rather  difficult  to  make  ad 
vances  to  her.  Still,  if  it  is  best  and  right  for  me — I  can 
forgive  her — I  will  forgive  her." 

"  My  dear  child,  that  is  a  sacrifice  for  you — I  know  it — a 
great  sacrifice.  But  I  propose  to  make  a  sacrifice  greater  for 
both  of  us  than  that.  We  must  do  something  which  will 
start  Louise  Stanford's  tongue  again,  and  probably  every 
one's  tongue,  louder  and  faster  than  you  have  ever  expe 
rienced  in  this  parish." 

The  case  was  evidently  assuming  serious. proportions.  She 
laid  aside  her  book,  and  drawing  her  low  rocking-chair  to 
her  father's  side,  took  his  hand  and  listened. 

"  Marie,  is  it  not  the  highest  privilege  of  a  Christian  to 
comfort  the  suffering  ?  " 

"  Yes,  undoubtedly,"  she  replied.  "  But  will  such  an  act 
arouse  the  communitv  against  us  ?  " 


STORMCLIFF.  55 

He  went  on  again,  without  reply  :  "  Is  it  not  Christian  to 
aid  the  struggling  to  rise ;  to  assist  them  to  be  useful  members 
of  society ;  to  strengthen  the  drooping  heart  by  kind  words 
of  cheer  and  encouragement,  and  thus  let  it  know  that  it 
has  sympathy  with  its  throbs  and  aspirations,  from  respecta 
ble  portions  of  the  community?'* 

That  earnest,  upturned  gaze  met  his  own.  His  meaning 
flashed  to  her  mind. 

"  You  mean  Clarence  Holden  ?  " 

He  nodded  assent. 

The  Church  and  the  world  were  ready  on  her  lips. 

"  Father,  society  has  a  right  to  protect  itself.  If  legiti 
macy  carries  no  privileges  with  it  —  if  reproach  does  not 
follow  shame — society  cannot  exist." 

Calmly  and  solemnly  rolled  forth  his  response  in  the  words 
of  the  Divine  Master  : 

" '  He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him  first  cast  a 
stone  at  her. 

" '  Woman,  where  are  those  thine  accusers  ?  hath  no  man 
condemned  thee  ?  She  said,  No  man,  Lord.  And  Jesus 
said  unto  her,  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee ;  go,  and  sin  no 
more.' 

"  Marie,  that  was  a  sinner  forgiven — protected  from  the 
laws  of  society.  But  Clarence  Holden  has  broken  no  law. 
He  has  never  done  a  shameful  act.  His  record  from  his 
birth  has  been  honorable  and  manly.  Society  forms  a  blind 
judgment  that  some  one  before  his  existence  was  guilty  of 
crime,  and  that  he  is  illegitimate.  With  fine  and  delicate 
sensibilities ;  with  a  keen  sense  of  honor,  and  a  conscious 
ness  of  personal  rectitude — he  is  suddenly  flung  upon  the 
world  alone.  Society  turns  its  back  upon  him  ;  the  followers 
of  Jesus  scorn  the  innocent,  and  in  his  way  place  stumbling- 
blocks.  At  every  corner,  he  is  avoided ;  at  every  turn  of  his 
lonely  life,  he  hears  the  word  '  shame  '  hurled  at  him.  The 
scorn  of  society,  in  which  he  has  moved  and  lived,  will  pro 
bably  do  more  to  induce  him  to  fling  away  his  immortal  soul, 


56  STOBMCLIFF. 

than  any  misfortune  of  life.  Oh !  I  stood  by  and  listened 
when  that  young  man  sprang  to  the  platform  and  struck 
forth  both  arms  like  a  drowning  man  for  life.  I  never 
heard  such  a  speech.  It  was  the  voice  of  the  soul  pleading 
for  help.  That  noble,  brave  young  heart  dashed  against 
the  bars  of  the  prison  society  had  made  for  him,  like  a 
proud  lion.  The  honest  men  who  live  outside  of  refined 
society,  heard  that  cry,  and  extended  to  him  their  arms.  Is 
the  world — is  the  infidel  more  Christian  than  the  Church  ? 
do  they  succor  Christ's  little  ones  while  his  own  professed 
followers  trample  them  down  ?  Marie,  I  am  going  to  him  ; 
I  am  going  to  extend  to  him  all  the  support  my  position 
as  rector  of  this  parish,  and  my  reputation  for  wealth,  can 
give  him.  I  shall  tell  him  that,  in  my  opinion,  he  is  just  as 
good  as  anybody,  even  if  the  worst  surmises  concerning  his 
origin  are  correct.  And  I  intend  to  back  that  opinion  by 
every  act  of  recognition  in  my  power.  I  will  offer  him  a 
seat  in  my  own  pew  in  the  Church,  and  will  invite  him  to  my 
house.  I  will  never  attempt  to  force  upon  you  acquaintances 
not  of  your  own  choosing.  Absent  yourself  on  such  occa 
sions,  if  you  so  prefer.  My  duty  to  encourage  the  struggling 
and  the  suffering  is  plain  to  me.  I  think  I  hear  Christ  call 
ing  to  me  in  the  person  of  this  lonely  one,  buffeting  the 
waves  of  prejudice  and  custom  to  win  honor,  recognition, 
and  heaven.  If  you  will  leave  me  alone  to  face  society,  I  will 
not  contend  with  you.  But  if  you  really  desire  to  perform 
such  an  act  of  Christian  charity  as  will  thrill  the  angels  of 
heaven,  I  advise  you  to  be  ready  at  sunset  to-morrow,  to  go 
with  me  to  visit  Clarence  Hnlden.  I  will  leave  you  to  your 
reflections  now.  I  am  going  out  to  ride  in  the  country." 

And  so  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron  left  her  alone. 

On  the  ensuing  day,  just  as  the  setting  sun  disappeared 
behind  the  hills,  a  carriage,  drawn  by  two  spirited  chestnut 
bays,  came  down  the  river  road  at  a  fast  trot.  It  was  a 
light,  open  vehicle,  and  in  it  sat  a  party  engaged  in  animated 
discourse.  The  Rev.  Charles  Heron  was  driving,  and  on  the 


STORMCLIFF.  57 

back  seat  were  his  daughter  and  the  young  man  who  had 
occasioned  so  much  remark  in  the  town.  The  outcast  had 
adopted  a  new  name  for  himself,  and  painted  it  upon  a  tin 
sign  which  was  nailed  to  the  door  of  his  cottage,  thus : 

"CLARENCE  RUTHERFORD, 
Attorney  &  Counsellor -at-Law^ 

The  clergyman  had  succeeded  in  reaching  the  heroic  vein 
in  his  daughter's  temperament.  She  had  been  engaged  in 
reading  a  poem  on  the  subject  of  self-sacrifice.  She  was 
thrilled  by  the  poet's  conception,  and  when  the  evening  came 
around,  she  was  ready — ready  for  the  drive;  ready  for  the 
strange  carriage  companion ;  ready,  in  fact,  to  do  anything 
which  should,  in  the  future,  secure  her  the  enviable  notoriety 
of  appearing  in  some  painting  as  a  maiden  robed  in  white, 
with  the  palm  of  the  saint  in  her  hand,  and  a  star  upon  her 
forehead  marked  "sacrifice"  She  was  engrossed  by  the 
idea  as  the  carriage  drove  up  to  the  little  office,  and  the 
bewildered  lawyer  was  forced  to  accept  the  invitation  to 
ride.  As  he  seated  himself  beside  her,  she  whispered  to 
herself,  "  Self-sacrifice — I  am  equal  to  it."  As  the  singular 
trio  dashed  along  the  principal  thoroughfare  of  the  town, 
and  people  stopped  on  the  walks  to  stare,  she  braced  herself 
a  little  higher  against  the  carriage  back,  and  clenched  her 
teeth  together  with  the  thought,  "sacrifice."  She  well 
knew  that  no  other  lady  in  town  would  occupy  her  seat 
beside  him  for  worlds.  The  news  of  it  would  travel  like 
wildfire.  "  Shame !  the  Herons  have  taken  him  up."  She 
felt  confident  that  hereafter  her  own  position  in  society 
vrould  be  precarious.  "I  like  the  Herons  very  well — but  I 
don't  care  to  meet  such  people  as  that.  They  must  not 
expect  me  to  call."  She  anticipated  innuendoes  to  the  effect 
that  it  was  an  affair  of  the  heart ;  that  they  had  been  en 
gaged  for  a  long  time  ;  and,  consequently,  she  was  too  fasci 
nated  to  break  it  off.  At  this  terrible  apprehension,  her 

3* 


58  STOEM  CLIFF. 

teeth  clenched  tighter,  holding  between  them  that  magnifi 
cent  word,  "  sacrifice."  She  was  confident  no  one  had  ever 
won  a  place  in  a  historical  painting  without  precisely  such 
painful  struggles  with  pride  and  society  as  she  was  under 
doing  at  that  moment.  But  worse  than  all,  on  the  broad 
walk  loomed  up  a  female  figure,  walking  leisurely.  She 
loosened  her  hold  on  the  word  "  sacrifice,"  and  prayed  men 
tally  that  the  dreadful  pedestrian  might  not  see  her.  Such  a 
prayer  was  thrown  away,  of  course.  Who  had  ever  known 
those  eyes  to  miss  strange  and  equivocal  occurrences  on  the 
streets  ?  The  lady  raised  her  eyes  in  passing,  bowed,  and 
sweetly  smiled.  Instantly  her  eyes  studied  Rutherford,  and 
that  glance  seemed  to  petrify  her,  for  she  paused,  and  looked  ' 
after  the  carriage  in  blank  astonishment.  The  clergyman 
remarked,  "  That  looks  like  Miss  Louise  Stanford." 

Well !  the  first  act  of  martyrdom  was  accomplished.  It 
was  painful  indeed.  None  but  a  woman  can  perfectly  appre 
ciate  it.  The  next  occurrence  was  a  relief,  and  a  certain 
amount  of  pleasure  mingled  with  it.  They  passed  an  excited 
throng  before  a  hotel.  The  announcement  had  just  been 
made  of  the  election  of  the  Honorable  George  Robinson  to 
Congress.  Cheers,  shouts,  and  booming  of  cannon  were  on 
the  air.  A  man  recognised  the  face  of  Rutherford,  and 
darted  at  once  to  the  front  of  the  horses.  The  clergyman 
was  obliged  to  rein  in  his  steeds.  The  man  caught  the  reins 
near  the  bit,  and  held  the  horses  securely,  while  a  voice 
shouted,  "  Three  cheers  for  our  next  member  of  Congress, 
Hon.  George  Robinson  !"  The  response  came  from  the  vast 
crowd  in  thunder  tones.  "  Nine  cheers  for  Clarence  Holden, 
who  elected  him,"  called  out  the  clear,  single  voice  again. 
The  call  seemed  to  electrify  the  assembly.  They  cheered, 
shouted,  yelled,  and  danced  around  the  carriage  like  mad 
men.  Rutherford  rose  to  his  feet,  and,  removing  his  hat, 
bowed  once,  and  resumed  his  seat.  The  man  at  the  horses' 
heads  let  go  the  reins,  and  the  spirited  steeds  dashed  ahead. 
Cheers  and  calls  for  Rutherford,  the  orator,  followed  after 


STOSMCLIFF.  59 

the  receding  vehicle  until  it  turned  a  corner  in  the  distance. 
The  Herons  had  gone  up  above  par  in  the  estimation  of  that 
crowd.  Intellect  and  innocence  were  recognised  outside  of 
society  and  the  Church. 

This  agreeable  incident  had  removed,  in  a  measure,  the 
embarrassing  reflections  of  the  riding  party.  When  the  out 
skirts  of  the  town  were  reached,  and  the  horses  dashed  off 
at  a  fleet  pace  across  the  country,  conversation,  cheerful  and 
natural,  arose  between  the  trio,  who  had  been  associated  in 
many  a  pleasant  ride  in  the  years  that  were  past.  Reference 
to  Judge  Holden's  name  or  family  was  carefully  avoided, 
and  the  clergyman  turned  into  a  side  road  immediately  after 
passing  the  fine,  but  gloomy,  estate  of  Nicholas  Traver.  He 
thus  avoided  driving  past  Judge  Holden's  place.  After 
a  time,  the  party  came  around  to  the  Hudson  again,  and 
followed  the  bends  of  the  river  for  several  miles.  When 
they  had  traversed  nearly  half  the  distance  to  "  The  Glen," 
the  horses'  heads  were  turned  towards  home.  The  sun  was 
rapidly  sinking  in  the  purple  and  golden  sea  of  the  west 
when  they  reversed  their  course,  and  by  the  time  they 
reached  the  neighborhood  of  the  Traver  estate,  a  narrow 
belt  of  purple,  hovering  low  to  the  horizon,  was  the  only 
relief  to  the  eye  in  the  mass  of  sombre,  darkening  clouds 
which  gathered  to  the  grave  of  the  lost  sun.  The  darkness 
now  fell  fast,  and  the  horses  were  urged  to  greater  speed, 
for  there  would  be  no  moon  to  light  the  path  of  the  belated. 
The  outlines  of  the  Traver  barns  and  mansion  finally  loomed 
up  in  the  twilight,  when  suddenly  the  flying  horses  stopped 
with  such  violence  that  the  party  were  nearly  unseated,  and 
then  attempted  to  dash  away  from  some  dark  object  lying 
directly  in  the  road,  and  which  they  would  not  step  across. 
They  made  several  plunges  towards  the  ditch,  preparatory 
to  the  destruction  of  the  carriage  and  a  mad  flight.  -But 
Rutherford,  with  a  bound,  was  in  the  road,  and  darted  to 
their  heads,  seizing  them  by  the  reins  with  the  grip  of  an 
athlete.  He  quieted  them  in  a  moment,  and  requested  the 


60  STORM  CLIFF. 

clergyman  to  jump  out  and  remove  the  dark  obstacle  from 
the  road.  The  reverend  gentleman  complied,  while  his 
daughter  leaned  forward  to  examine  the  cause  of  the  fright. 
What  was  their  dismay  to  discover  that  it  was  the  corpse  of 
a  man.  It  was  growing  too  dark  for  recognition  of  the  face 
of  the  dead.  A  discussion  arose  as  to  what  course  should  be 
pursued.  Finally  it  was  decided,  that  as  the  gate  of  Nicho 
las  Traver  was  so  close  at  hand,  it  would  be  best  to  summon 
some  of  his  servants  with  lights.  The  clergyman  walked  on, 
and  swinging  open  the  gate,  entered  the  silent  premises.  A 
light  glimmered  away  In  the  distance  from  a  window  of  the 
mansion.  He  walked  on  towards  it  till  he  was  close  to  the 
piazza,  when  the  warning  bark  of  a  watch-dog  brought  him 
to  a  stand-still.  He  shouted  loudly  for  help.  In  a  few 
moments  the  front  door  opened,  and  the  proprietor  appeared, 
lamp  in  hand.  He  recognised  the  clergyman,  and  said,  in  a 
kindly  tone : 

"  You  are  welcome,  Mr.  Heron.  Can  I  be  of  service  to 
you  ?  Will  you  come  in  ?" 

When  informed  of  the  unknown  corpse,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  I  trust  it  is  none  of  my  servants ;  some  of  them  live 
just  above  on  the  road ;  your  daughter,  then,  is  with  you 
here ;  take  this  lamp  and  walk  on.  I  will  overtake  you  in  a 
moment,  when  I  summon  Thomas  and  his  brother." 

The  clergyman  with  the  lamp  walked  on  to  the  gate,  and 
passed  into  the  highway,  but  before  reaching  the  carriage, 
he  was  joined  by  Nicholas  Traver.  As  the  two  approached 
the  horses,  the  light  fell  full  upon  the  countenance  of  Marie 
Heron,  and  Mr.  Traver  raised  his  hat  gracefully  to  her,  with 
a  brief  salutation.  Then  the  two  bent  over  the  prostrate 
form  in  the  road,  holding  the  light  low  down  over  the  coun 
tenance  of  the  dead.  The  recognition  was  instantaneous. 
Nicholas  Traver,  with  a  shriek  of  agony,  flung  himself  upon 
his  knees  beside  the  body  of  his  murdered  son.  There  was 
no  doubt  of  it.  Walter  Traver  was  lying  there  dead — 
strangled  to  death  by  evident  finger-prints  on  the  throat. 


STORMCLIFF.  61 

The  expression  of  the  face  was  dreadful  to  behold.  The 
young  lady  sat  in  the  carriage,  shivering  with  terror ;  but  the 
shrieks  of  the  poor  father  over  his  son  reached  even  the 
servants  hurrying  down  from  the  estate. 

Retribution  flapped  her  dark  wings  over  the  scene,  and 
the  memory  of  the  curse  returned:  "May  thy  bright  and 
beautiful  ones  perish  by  violence,  and  thy  name  be  the 
symbol  of  terror  for  all  time !" 

Scenes  of  horror  have  their  limits  like  all  else.  Finally  the 
father  arose  to  his  feet,  and  kind  hands  assisted  him  to  carry 
his  dead.  The  murdered  youth  was  borne  to  the  hall  of  the 
mansion.  Thei'e  was  no  mother  to  receive  him,  for  she  slept  • 
beneath  the  sod.  No  sister  was  there  to  smoothe  out  the 
distorted  limbs,  and  compose  the  features  for  the  grave, 
for  she  had  been  sacrificed  in  her  trusting  girlhood  and 
sent  beyond  the  sea.  The  clergyman  and  his  daughter,  and 
Rutherford,  were  kind  and  attentive,  and  remained  at  the 
gloomy  house  until  their  services  were  no  longer  required. 
Then  they  drove  away,  and  Nicholas  Traver  was  left  alone 
with  his  dead.  Alone !  how  terribly  significant  that  word  in 
the  silence  of  that  starless  night !  The  accomplished  gentle 
man,  the  scholar,  the  wit,  the  star  of  the  social  circle,  alone  1 
It  had  been  desolate  enough  before,  with  the  crippled  son  for 
company.  Now  the  pride  of  his  heart  was  lying  there  cold, 
and  his  only  companion  must  be  that  dreadful  howling  wind, 
which  often  sounded  like  a  voice  human,  and  seemed  to 
utter  the  warning-note  of  a  sudden  death.  Alone  !  utterly 
alone !  The  proud  unrepenting  man  shuddered  and  leaned 
over  his  dead.  Did  his  strong  will  falter  ?  Was  he  ready 
for  reparation,  for  satisfaction,  with  the  calm  eye  of  his  God 
regarding  him  there  alone?  Or  would  he  brace  himself 
against  repentance,  and  risk  the  coming  of  the  remaining 
unfulfilled  anathema,  the  fearful  curse  which  already  had  filled 
his  nights  and  days  with  terror  ?  What,  after  all,  was  a 
woman's  curse?  Should  a  reasoning  man  dread,  as  the 
ignorant  and  superstitious  dread  ?  Could  he,  so  long  defiant 


62  STOBMCLIFF. 

and  wrapped  in  the  glory  of  his  pride,  fear  the  vengeance  of  a 
God  he  had  never  seen,  and  knew  only  through  the  prattle 
of  the  priesthood  ?  "  Never  !"  The  word  came  out  from  his 
teeth,  even  as  he  sat  alone  beside  his  murdered,  his  only  son. 
He,  Nicholas  Traver,  make  such  reparation !  He  scorned  the 
voice  of  conscience,  sitting  beside  his  dead,  and  mocking  the 
voices  of  the  autumn  wind  which  rose  and  fell,  and  moaned 
away  in  that  solemn  night  of  his  soul. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

IT  was  a  beautiful  bonnet;  and  naturally  she  lingered  a 
moment  before  her  glass  to  contemplate  it.  The  material 
was  uncut  velvet  of  a  light  blue  color.  The  soft  crown  was 
fashioned  of  exquisite  white  lace  in  the  shape  of  ivy  leaves. 
The  narrow  cape  was  made  of  the  same  uncut  velvet ;  the  lace 
leaves  of  the  crown  drooping  gracefully  upon  it.  The  inside 
was  trimmed  with  white  illusion,  puffed  and  ornamented  with 
pink  moss  rose-buds.  The  bonnet  strings  were  broad  blue 
ribbons.  The  blonde  was  radiant  in  her  new  bonnet,  and  her 
cheeks  glowed  with  the  excitement  and  the  chill  air  of  that 
autumn  drive,  which  had  been  for  a  time  intercepted  by  that 
tragic  death  lying  across  the  highway. 

With  a  sigh  she  turned  away  from  her  boudoir  glass,  and 
removed  from  her  curls  her  bonnet.  She  flung  aside  her  cir 
cular,  and  in.  a  few  moments  descended  to  the  tea-room  to 
superintend  the  preparation  of  her  father's  tea.  During  the 
whole  time  of  the  evening  meal,  while  the  absorbing  subject 
of  the  murder  was  discussed,  that  sigh  was  present  to  her 
heart.  It  clung  to  her  during  the  long  evening  that  she 
remained  with  her  father  in  his  library  and  read  or  talked 
with  him,  sitting  before  the  glowing  coals  of  his  grate  fire ;  and 
when  she  kissed  him  good-night,  the  clergyman  said  : 

"  Marie,  this  sad  affair  has  depressed  you  too  much.    Do 


STORMCLIFF.  63 

not  allow  your  thoughts  to  dwell  upon  it  in  your  room.  The 
dead  are  withdrawn  from  our  charity,  but  the  living  require 
our  aid.  I  am  so  proud  of  you  to-day  ;  for  you  have  assisted 
me  to  encourage  that  desolate  heart  who  needs  so  much  sup 
port  to  keep  him  from  despair." 

She  took  up  her  lamp  without  reply,  and  moved  off  in  her 
noiseless  way  to  her  room,  with  her  curls  falling  softly  upon 
her  brown  merino  dress.  She  was  not  absorbed  by  the  tra 
gedy  of  the  death,  as  her  father  supposed.  The  living  engrossed 
her  thoughts,  and  when  she  reached  her  room,  held  supreme 
control  over  her  reverie.  She  had  gone  forth  to  that  ride,  to 
face  society,  with  a  romantic  enthusiasm  based  upon  an  ardent 
nature.  It  would  be  grand  to  sacrifice  herself  for  the  suffer 
ing,  and  receive  the  sharp  poniards  of  women's  tongues  ;  for 
some  day  her  reward  would  come,  in  the  praise  of  the  world, 
which  often  hastens  to  laud  those  whom  it  has  once  trampled 
upon.  Unlike  her  father,  her  motive  Avas  of  the  earth,  earthy. 
His  generous  heart  was  serving  God.  Her  heart  was  looking 
towards  the  crown  which  the  enthusiastic  and  the  romantic 
see  ever  clinging  on  danger's  precipice.  But  strange  to 
relate,  when  she  was  once  more  in  her  own  room,  the  task 
which  in  the  morning  seemed  so  formidable,  so  repugnant  to 
her  society  maxims  and  prejudices,  assumed  the  form  of 
pleasure.  She  could  associate  with  the  outcast  now,  and 
realize  only  happiness  and  contentment.  The  society  of 
Rutherford  would  bring  no  pain,  no  inconvenience.  Why 
this  sudden  change  ?  Ah  !  she  had  looked  into  the  genius- 
depths  of  his  glorious  eyes.  She  had  seen  them  kindle  with 
inspiration  as  they  swept  their  glances  along  the  beauties  of 
the  mountains  and  the  river.  She  had  listened  with  thrills 
of  poetic  rapture  to  his  vivid  utterances,  as  he  discoursed  of 
the  noble,  and  pure,  and  exalted  in  life — of  the  soul  which 
alone  renders  men  beautiful  and  grand.  She  was  led  by  him 
captive,  through  his  wonderful  renderings  of  history  and  his 
torical  characters,  as  his  intellect  came  in  contact  with  the 
calm  erudition  of  her  excellent  father.  What  he  touched 


64  STORMCLIFF. 

upon  in  her  own  favorite  authors  sprang  to  a  new  life,  invest 
ed  with  new  meanings.  She  had  known  him  before,  but  had 
always  regarded  him  as  separated  from  her  society,  in  a  great 
measure,  by  the  discrepancy  of  their  ages.  He  was  ten  years 
her  senior.  But  under  the  culture  of  the  past  two  years  her 
intellect  had  developed  rapidly,  and  she  began  to  realize  that 
congeniality  of  soul  is  not  to  be  estimated  by  divisions  or 
durations  of  time.  The  stain  which  seemed  to  attach  to  his 
birth  was  forgotten.  No  matter  if  his  features  did  resemble 
strongly  those  of  the  deceased  Judge.  It  was  not  conclusive 
evidence  of  parentage.  In  so  extraordinary  an  instance  of 
disinherison,  chanty  demanded  of  society  unusual  forbear 
ance  in  the  expression  of  opinion.  She  was  resolved  at  all 
hazards  to  defend  Rutherford,  so  completely  had  he  fascinated 
her  in  that  ride.  It  was  splendid  to  know  and  receive  one  to 
friendship  who  had  studied  and  thought  so  deeply— one  to 
whom  poetry  would  be  a  necessary  nutriment  of  the  intellec 
tual  life — one  who  could  not  ridicule  the  sublime  and  the 
generous. 

There  are  moments  in  life  when  the  intellects  of  the  young 
spring  to  rapid  but  correct  conclusions  as  to  the  character 
and  destiny  of  those  with  whom  they  are  brought  in  contact. 
It  is  a  flash,  an  instinct,  a  species  of  the  divine  attribute  of 
insight  granted  to  them;  and  the  idea  of  character  thus 
formed,  remains  with  them  for  ever.  Persecution  cannot 
change  it;  the  remonstrances  of  friends  and  parents  who 
claim  by  long  experience  to  be  masters  of  the  art  of  reading 
men,  can  never  eradicate  it.  Commands  may  be  dutifully 
obeyed,  isolation  from  the  object  may  ensue,  or  the  compa 
nionship  with  the  object  may  be  reluctantly  accepted ;  but  the 
idea,  favorable  or  otherwise,  is  eternal.  So  was  it  with  Marie 
Heron.  She  read  Rutherford,  the  outcast,  in  that  hour  of 
the  drive,  and  the  reading  was  favorable.  With  just  the 
impulsive  nature  calculated  to  form  hasty  and  erroneous 
opinions,  she  nevertheless  decide'd  instantly,  and  decided  cor 
rectly.  He  was  a  noble  being,  untamed  by  sorrow,  liable 


STOKHCLIFF.  65 

to  make  mistakes  in  the  life  battle,  but  ever  recovering  his 
balance  by  the  pressure  of  an  honest  soul.  He  could  be 
trusted,  for  guile  was  not  in  him.  Whatever  belonged  to 
another,  the  honor  of  a  woman  who  trusted  him,  the  property 
of  a  friend  who  confided  in  him,  was  sacred.  He  could  be 
trusted  with  another's  purse,  but  not  with  his  own.  She  saw 
in  his  eyes  ambition,  a  love  of  praise  well  earned,  a  will  able 
to  wear  out  chains  till  they  crumbled,  and  a  love  of  the  beau 
tiful  powerful  to  refine  and  purify  that  will.  She  had  trea 
sured  up  every  expression  he  had  employed,  every  shade  of 
opinion  he  had  offered  during  the  ride,  and  when  she  sat 
down  in  her  room  that  night,  to  pen  the  accustomed  pages  of 
her  journal,  these  lines  trembled  out  upon  the  maiden  record  : 
"  He  has  thrilled  me  to-day.  I  cannot  define  the  emotion 
of  my  heart  he  has  aroused.  I  am  constrained  to  look  up  to 
him,  but  the  position  brings  with  it  no  sense  of  mortifying 
inferiority.  His  whole  manner  has  seemed  to  invite  me 
upward  to  a  new  plane  of  thought.  He  is  like  one  reaching 
down  his  arm  to  me,  and  saying,  '  Come  up  to  this  strange 
place — I  know  you  will  appreciate  the  view.'  He  is  gene 
rous,  he  is  earnest ;  but  something  whispers  to  me  that  he 
is  no  partisan  in  religion  or  politics,  or,  indeed,  in  anything. 
He  will  seek  to  secure  the  triumph  of  the  right  by  the 
mediumship  of  many  parties,  and  by  the  employment  of 
diverse  interests.  He  can  never  become  a  bigot,  and  the 
world  will  often  style  him  '  inconsistent ;'  but  he  will  be 
consistent  in  his  efforts  to  benefit  humanity,  whatever  name 
he  may  put  off  or  on.  He  believes  that  in  the  dominant 
party  rests  the  efficient  power  for  good.  When,  by  the  fail 
ure  of  his  present  association  to  attain  power,  right  and  the 
interest  of  humanity  are  confined  to  mere  declaration  and 
assertion,  he  will,  fearless  of  reproach,  go  over  to  the  enemy 
to  wrest  from  them  a  share  of  the  good  for  his  race,  which 
can  only  be  secured  in  the,  favor  of  the  dominant  faction. 
To  his  view,  sincere  motives  exist  in  rival  cliques,  and  he 
would  use  either  when  in  a  position  to  effect  the  most  per- 


66  STOEMCLIFF. 

fectly  the  carrying  out  of  his  principles.  Once  a  Jew,  he 
would  not  remain  a  Jew  always.  Yesterday  Judaism  was 
the  infallible  Church  of  God — to-day,  the  apostles  have 
become  '  turncoats.'  To  think  and  to  pray  God,  each  day 
as  it  comes,  for  light  to  do  and  know  His  holy  will  with 
reference  to  the  ever-changiug  and  novel  perplexities  of  life, 
is  the  Christian's  privilege,  and  he  should  never  be  the  slave 
of  yesterday.  I  run  over  in  my  mind  the  list  of  historical 
statesmen  when  I  hear  Rutherford  talk,  and  I  pause  at  the 
name  of  Halifax.  Oh !  he  is  so  like  him ;  flitting  ever 
between  foes  and  rival  opinions,  to  secure  blessings  for  his 
country  and  his  people.  This  poor,  lonely  soul,  with  his 
glorious  eyes,  and  his  proud,  pale  forehead,  and  his  superb 
figure,  has  entranced  me  to-night.  His  expressions  and  his 
thoughts  haunt  me.  I  have  dreamed  of  him  for  hours,  sitting 
here  alone  in  my  room.  I  am  sure  I  shall  dream  of  him  all 
night." 

While  the  clergyman's  daughter  indulged  herself  in  reve 
rie  over  the  incidents  of  the  evening  ride,  Rutherford  was 
at  his  lonely  home  in  puzzled  meditation  over  a  package  he 
had  found  placed  on  the  step  outside  his  door.  When  the 
carriage  left  him  at  his  humble  gate,  he  walke'd  slowly  and 
thoughtfully  up  the  path  to  his  house.  Drawing  his  key 
from  his  pocket,  he  advanced  his  foot  to  the  step,  but  found 
something  impeding  him.  Stooping  down,  and  groping  in 
the  darkness,  his  hands  met  a  large  bundle  containing  some 
hard  and  heavy  substance.  He  removed  it  to  one  side,  and 
entered  his  house  for  a  lamp.  Returning  with  the  light,  he 
saw  his  name  written  upon  the  package  in  a  bold,  free  hand, 
which  he  did  not  recollect  to  have  ever  seen  before.  It  read 
thus :  "  For  Clarence  Rutherford,  Esq.,  Attorney  and  Coun- 
sellor-at-Law."  In  the  corner  was  written  in  small  letters, 
in  the  same  handwriting:  "  The  gift  of  a  friend." 

He  eagerly  dragged  the  bulky  present  into  his  office,  and 
closed  the  door.  Then,  placing  his  lamp  on  a  chair,  he  drew 
his  knife-blade  across  the  coarse  twine  which  bound  the 


STOKMCLIFF.  67 

"bundle  securely,  and  severed  it  in  several  places.  He  tore 
off  the  brown  wrapping-paper,  and  exposed  the  contents  to 
view.  A  cry  of  joy  escaped  him.  u Law  books!  glory! — 
this  is  luck — just  the  very  ones,  the  very  identical  ones,  I 
needed  :  Revised  Statutes,  splendidly  bound ;  two  works  on 
Evidence;  ten  volumes  of  Supreme  Court  Reports;  the  Law 
of  Contracts,  &c.,  &c.  Who  could  have  sent  this?  I  am 
the  luckiest  man  alive." 

He  looked  with  beaming  eyes  upon  his  treasure.  Then  his 
face  assumed  a  bewildered  look.  Then  he  burst  into  tears. 
Poor  fellow!  it  was  too  much 'for  him,  and  coming  right 
upon  the  kindness  of  the  clergyman  and  his  daughter,  too. 
He  could  not  stand  up  firm  and  manly  against  kindness.  It 
overpowered  him.  It  was  too  much  for  him.  Trample  upon 
him,  and  it  was  all  right — he  was  ready  for  fight — ready  to 
struggle  against  adversity  like  a  hero ;  but  kindness,  gentle 
ness  to  him  in  his  loneliness,  was  a  weapon  which  rendered 
him  tame — drove  out  the  last  spark  of  fire  in  him — and  he 
cried  as  a  broken  heart  only  can  cry.  Some  one  loved  him, 
then.  Some  great,  generous  soul  was  watching  the  outcast. 
Some  noble  heart,  too  great  for  this  contemptible  world,  was 
leaning  towards  him,  yearning  towards  him — would  rejoice 
to  see  him  triumph,  and  cleave  his  way  through  the  dreadful 
barriers  of  shame.  Oh !  he  laid  his  proud  head  low  down 
upon  the  books,  and  vowed  before  God  that  no  ambition  of 
his  life  should  ever  equal  his  effort  to  find  out  this  bene 
factor,  and  pay  him  back  a  thousandfold.  Presently  he  sat 
up  on  the  floor,  and  pressed  his  hand  to  his  forehead.  Who 
could  have  sent  the  books  ?  Nora  had  no  money.  The 
clergyman  might  be  the  secret  giver.  He  had  unaccount 
ably  befriended  him  that  afternoon.  No  !  the  quick  instinct 
of  a  generous  heart  came  to  Rutherford.  Nothing  but  gra 
titude  could  have  sent  him  that  timely  present.  It  was  the 
man  he  had  so  signally  served,  so  triumphantly  battled  for, 
so  palpably  elected  to  power.  It  could  be  no  other  than  the 
Hon.  George  Robinson,  the  member  elect. 


68  STORMCLIFF. 

"  God  bless  his  generous  old  heart,"  he  exclaimed ;  "  1 
would  work  from  now  till  doomsday  to  elevate  him  -to  any 
place  of  honor  or  profit  he  might  look  for.  We  might  have 
put  up  an  abler  candidate  to  represent  this  district,  no  doubt, 
but  this  shows  the  man  has  a  soul.  I  thank  God  I  have  been 
able  to  serve  him." 

Under  the  pleasing  reflections  inspired  by  this  last  thought, 
he  arose  to  his  feet  and  proudly  prepared  a  place  on  his 
writing-table  for  the  law  books.  He  had  hardly  arranged 
his  useful  treasures  in  their  places  on  the  table,  and  cleared 
away  the  wrapping-paper  and  twine  from  the  -floor,  when 
a  knock,  as  of  a  club,  sounded  upon  his  door,  heavy  and 
thrice  repeated.  He  turned  at  the  unexpected  summons  and 
said: 

"  Who's  there  ? — come  in." 

The  door  opened,  and  a  tall  figure  stood  at  the  entrance, 
vaguely  revealed  against  the  dark  background  of  the  night. 
It  was  Nora,  with  her  staff.  The  lawyer  welcomed  her 
most  cordially,  placing  a  seat  for  her  near  his  little  fireplace, 
and  closing  the  door  against  the  wind,  which  followed  her 
in  with  such  rushing  violence  that  his  lamp  was  nearly 
extinguished.  She  appeared  to  be  much  agitated,  and  her 
eyes  glittered  with  excitement,  sitting  as  she  did  in  the  full 
glare  of  the  red  fire-light.  After  glancing  about  at  the  few 
articles  of  furniture  in  the  room,  but  failing  to  notice  the 
clock  behind  her,  she  entered  into  conversation,  briefly 
detailing  her  appointment  to  the  custody  of  "  The  Glen," 
and  the  progress  she  was  making  in  carrying  out  the  plans 
of  the  widow.  She  was  once  interrupted  by  the  strange 
moans  of  the  wind.  The  chimney  appeared  to  be  full  of  low, 
muttering  voices,  occasionally  rising  together  into  a  dis 
cordant  wail  as  the  storm  gathered  force  and  rushed  past 
the  windows,  rattling  the  sashes  and  swinging  the  blinds 
with  a  startling  boom  back  against  the  clapboards.  She 
seemed  to  have  brought  the  storm  with  her.  From  the 
moment  her  glittering  eyes  appeared  at  the  door,  there  was 


STOKMCLIFF.  69 

nothing  but  a  bedlam  of  strange  sounds  outside  ;  and  the 
puffs  of  wind  even  descended  the  chimney  and  stirred  the 
ashes  on  the  hearth.  It  made  the  lawyer  shudder  to  hear 
them,  those  tenor  sounds  of  woe ;  and  he  could  not  but 
recall  the  superstitious  belief  that  they  are  the  spirits  of  the 
unburied,  who  fly  moaning  over  the  earth  pleading  for 
sepulture. 

A  lull  came,  and  then  she  told  him  the  object  of  her  visit. 
She  was  in  trouble,  and  needed  help  out  there  in  the  dark 
ness  and  the  storm.  She  could  trust  no  one  but  him.  It 
involved  hazard  and  secresy,  delicacy  and  tact.  It  might 
require  his  exertions  the  whole  night.  Would  he  go  with 
her  and  assist  her,  and  thus  secure  her  gratitude  for  life  ? 
She  repeated  her  question,  looking  eagerly  into  his  face  from 
under  her  mourning  bonnet.  He  calmly  revolved  her  request, 
with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  glowing  coals.  Then  he  said  : 

"Nora,  I  would  be  willing  to  die  for  you,  I  think.  You 
did  right  to  come  to  me.  I  will  stand  by  you  in  this  matter. 
It  verges  upon  violation  of  the  laws  of  the  land  ;  but  I  think 
you  are  right  under  the  circumstances,  and  I  will  help  you. 
You  have  given  me  my  life  and  hope,  and  I  never  will  refuse 
you  anything.  I  will  go  with  you  at  once.  Oh !  have 
you  heard  of  the  murder  ?  We  were  riding  home  at  dusk 
to-night,  and  found  almost  under  our  horses'  feet  the  body 
of  Walter  Traver.  He  was  murdered  plainly  enough — 
strangled  to  death — frightful — frightful.  It  was  near  his 
father's  gate,  and  the  lonely  man,  Nicholas  Traver,  is  sitting 
up  to-night  with  the  body.  I  will  be  ready  to  go  with  you 
in  one  moment ;  let  me  direct  this  letter  first  for  the  mail ; 
I  will  leave  it  at  the  office  on  our  way  down  the  street." 

He  turned  away  to  his  table  and  took  up  his  pen.  He 
did  not  hear  her  reply,  the  first  whispered  sentence  which 
came  from  her  pale  lips,  nor  see  the  strange  intelligence 
which  darted  to  her  averted  eyes.  He  only  heard  her 
second  utterance,  guarded  and  modulated  to  the  proper 
surprise  of  the  occasion. 


70  STOBMCLIFP. 

"  This  is  dreadful  news.  What  an  unfortunate  family ! — 
are  you  sure  he  was  murdered  ? — were  there  marks  of  vio 
lence  ?  Oh,  my  poor  Grace !  how  sad  and  desolate  has 
been  her  life,  and  now  this  news  must  go  to  her !  But  tell 
me — why  was  it  ?  — who  is  suspected  ? — was  he  robbed  ?" 

He  answered  with  his  head  bent  over  the  table,  and 
attending  to  the  sealing  of  his  letter : 

"  Nobody  is  suspected,  so  far ;  his  papers  were  untouched. 
We  examined  everything  on  the  spot.  I  cannot  say  whether, 
or  not,  he  usually  carried  money  about  him.  Now  I  am 
ready." 

It  was  well  for  her  that  his  attention  was  diverted  by  the 
letter,  otherwise  he  would  have  certainly  detected  her  agita 
tion;  She  was  ghastly  pale  and  trembling ;  and  when  he 
arose  from  his  letter  and  sought  his  hat  and  overcoat,  she 
turned  away  further  from  him  and  attempted  to  conceal  her 
emotion  in  the  study  of  the  firelight.  He  extinguished  the 
light  and  led  the  way  out  of  the  house.  Intense  darkness 
enveloped  them  for  several  rods,  but  finally  they  reached  the 
light  of  the  stores  in  the  public  street.  Nora  expected  to 
find  her  lantern  at  her  cottage,  which  masked  the  approach 
to  the  crevice  in  the  mountain.  There,  also,  she  informed 
him,  was  the  horse  tied  which  she  had  purchased  by  order 
of  the  widow,  to  drive  about  the  country  in  fulfilling  the 
duties  of  her  responsible  agency.  They  penetrated  to  the 
heart  of  the  town,  walking  rapidly,  in  consequence  of  the 
chill  wind,  in  which  the  signs  of  the  offices  and  shops  swung 
backward  and  forward  with  a  shrill,  creaking  sound,  and  the 
fallen  leaves  whirled  and  rattled  away  over  the  pavements. 
They  passed  beyond  the  shops  into  the  darkness  which 
enveloped  the  scattered  dwellings  at  the  end  of  the  street, 
and  after  some  difficulty  in  finding  their  way  along  the 
irregular  and  broken  pavement,  succeeded  in  reaching  Nora's 
vacant  tenement.  The  horse  was  standing  with  the  buggy 
before  the  door.  The  old  woman  entered  the  house,  and 
bade  her  companion  follow  her.  He  entered,  in  the  darkness, 


STOBMCLIFF.  71 

and  she  immediately  locked  the  ,do°r  to  prevent  any  inter 
ference  from  chance  passers  on  the  street.  This  last  precau 
tion  seemed  hardly  necessary,  as  the  house  was  quite  retired 
and  isolated  from  other  buildings  on  the  street,  and  was 
rarely  passed  at  night  by  pedestrians.  She  groped  about  till 
she  found  matches,  and  lighted  her  lantern.  The  bare  walls 
only  were  revealed.  The  furniture  was  all  removed  to  a 
room  at  "The  Glen."  She  descended  her  cellar  stairs  with 
the  light,  and  he  followed.  When  they  stood  upon  the  floor 
of  the  cellar,  he  heard  a  strange  sound  which  seemed  to 
arise  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  A  long,  wild  howl  of 
human  agony  and  terror.  Nora  turned  her  eyes  upon  his 
countenance.  A  strange,  pleading  tenderness  was  in  them  ; 
a  deep  unutterable  sympathy  for  suffering  and  woe.  She 
said,  with  a  slight  tremor  in  her  voice : 

"  For  Christ's  dear  sake,  be  as  gentle  as  you  can !  There 
has  been  such  dreadful  suffering  —  no  tongue  can  express  it ; 
the  soul  has  been  wrung  with  anguish — deadly  anguish — and 
the  poor  body  has  been  needlessly  made  to  suffer,  too.  You 
are  so  powerful  in  limb,  and  so  true  of  heart,  that  I  have 
entrusted  this  charge  to  you  for  to-night.  For  God's  sake, 
deal  as  gently  with  this  unfortunate  being  as  you  can  !  Come 
on." 

She  pulled  away  the  branches  which  had  been  heaped  up 
against  the  cellar  wall,  and  the  entrance  to  the  huge  crevice 
of  the  mountain  was  revealed.  She  swung  the  lantern  be 
fore  her,  and  entered  the  narrow  aperture.  Her  companion 
followed,  until  he  saw  a  strange,  startling  picture  before  him. 
A  beautiful  woman,  perhaps  forty  years  of  age,  with  her 
raven-black  hair  falling  wildly  about  her,  was  sitting  on  the 
rock,  bound  hand  and  foot  with  cords  ;  a  rope  passing  round 
her  waist,  confined  her  securely  to  a  rude  pillar  of  rock, 
against  which  she  leaned.  At  the  sight  of  Rutherford,  with 
his  flashing  eyes  and  his  commanding  mien,  she  commenced 
a  piteous  cry  for  mercy,  raising  her  fettered  hands,  so  white 
and  delicate,  to  ISTora  : 


72  STORMCLIFF. 

"  Oh,  Nora,  the  good  God  will  love  you,  and  be  so  sweet 
and  kind  to  you,  if  you  will  save  me  from  them  !  I  beg  you, 
I  pray  you,  for  Jesus'  sake,  save  me — poor  helpless  me.  God 
will  let  me  come  back  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven  to  com 
fort  you  and  bless  you,  when  I  am  laid  in  my  sad  grave. 
Oh,  Nora,  save  me !" 

The  tears  gathered  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  nurse  as  she 
replied : 

"  Hush,  child  ;  did  I  ever  desert  you  ?  They  shall  never 
have  you  again — trust  my.promise  for  ever !  Here,  lean  your 
poor  head  on  my  breast,  while  I  show  this  kind  friend  how 
the  wretches  have  mutilated  you." 

Nora  seated  herself  on  the  rock  and  drew  the  pitiful  face 
tenderly  and  caressingly  to  her  breast.  The  beautiful  wo 
man  suffered  her  head  to  rest  there,  quiet  and  peaceful  as  a 
lamb,  while  the  nurse  unhooked  her  dress  behind  and  expos 
ed  her  snow-white  shoulders  to  Rutherford's  gaze.  She  had 
been  cruelly  whipped  and  beaten  with  cords,  and  the  act  was 
the  work  of  a  demon.  The  wounds  and  gashes  were  healed, 
but  the  scars  were  frightful  witnesses  before  the  court  of 
Heaven.  An  expression  of  anguish  passed  over  his  face,  and 
he  turned  away.  Then  his  hands  clenched  together  with 
rage,  and  his  countenance  for  an  instant  was  perfectly  white 
with  passion.  He  turned  to  Nora's  inquiring  gaze,  and  said 
with  tremulous  emphasis : 

"  You  were  more  than  right.  It  would  be  an  outrage  on 
manhood  to  suffer  her  to  fall  into  their  clutches  again  ;  I  will 
follow  your  directions  blindly;  lead  on — I  will  aid  you  to 
the  death.  Will  she  go  with  me  ?  " 

There  was  something  in  his  tone  and  look  which  gave  con 
fidence  to  the  poor  creature,  for  she  raised  her  sad  eyes  and 
said  quietly : 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  will  go  with  you,  for  you  are  Nora's  friend ; 
Nora  loves  me  with  a  love  passing  the  love  of  a  mother.  If 
she  confides  in  you,  you  are  worthy  of  confidence  ;  where  will 
you  take  me,  now— to  my  child  ?  I  am  a  wanderer  on  the 


STOEMCLIFP.  73 

face  of  the  earth.  I  have  no  place  to  lay  my  head,  like  my 
Saviour.  But  I  am  a  lady  in  spite  of  these  fetters." 

She  raised  her  head  from  Nora's  breast  and  drew  herself 
proudly  up.  "  Yes !  I  am  a  lady — look  at  me  !" 

The  old  nurse  said  : 

"  Will  you  promise  then,  on  the  honor  of  a  lady,  that  you 
will  go  quietly  with  us — make  no  noise — submit  to  our  direc 
tions  until  we  take  you  to  your  daughter's  home  ?  If  you 
will  promise  this,  we  will  remove  all  these  cords,  except  the 
one  on  your  wrists." 

"  Oh  !  yes,  Nora  ;  I  will  do  everything  you  ask ;  only  take 
them  off  quick  ;  it  is  so  undignified  for  a  lady  to  be  bound." 

She  motioned  to  Rutherford  to  remove  the  fetters  from 
the  captive.  He  stepped  forward  at  the  sign,  and  while 
Nora  held  the  lantern,  untied  the  cords  and  flung  them 
aside.  The  lady  arose  with  quiet  dignity  and  grace  to  her 
fret,  and  stood  contemplating  the  two  with  grateful  smiles. 
Then  she  said,  as  if  awaking  from  a  dream : 

"  I  am  ready  now ;  put  your  kind  arms  around  me,  Nora, 
and  support  me  through  this  wilderness  world." 

The  old  nurse  complied  with  her  request,  and  relinquished 
her  lantern  and  staff  to  Rutherford.  And  thus  they  walked 
along  slowly  into  the  cellar,  and  ascending  the  stairs,  passed 
through  the  house  into  the  dark  street,  where  the  horse  and 
vehicle  were  awaiting  their  coming. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  captive  shuddered  as  she  met  the  cold  air  of  the  street. 
But  Nora  was  prepared  for  the  emergency.  She  had  brought 
a  man's  cloak,  and  a  hood  well  lined,  which  she  drew  from 
under  the  seat  of  the  vehicle,  and  with  them  completely  en 
veloped  the  figure  and  head  of  the  lady.  Then  Rutherford 
caught  the  muffled  captive  in  his  arms,  and  lifted  her  into 

4 


74  STOBMCLIFF. 

her  seat,  and  instantly  sat  down  beside  her,  passing  his  arm 
around  the  back  of  the  seat,  to  be  prepared  to  arrest  any  sud 
den  movement  she  might  make  to  escape.  Nora  placed  her 
lantern  in  his  lap  to  light  their  way.  Then  she  unfastened 
her  horse,  and  climbing  to  her  seat  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lady,  gathered  up  her  reins  and  drove  off.  She  turned  into 
a  street  which  led  them  away  from  the  lights  of  the  shop  win 
dows,  and  being  anxious  to  avoid  observation,  made  a  wide 
detour  which  carried  them  far  to  the  south  of  the  town.  The 
powerful  horse,  at  a  brisk  trot,  kept  steadily  on  his  way,  and 
the  lantern  light  streaming  on  ahead  and  dancing  back  and 
forth  on  the  fences  and  hedges,  enabled  Nora  to  find  the  proper 
turning-places  on  her  route.  A  fearful  pall  of  darkness  had 
settled  upon  the  earth,  and  the  mournful  wind  went  howling 
on  its  starless  way,  now  roaring  through  the  tops  of  the  pines, 
now  rattling  together  the  leafless  branches  of  the  oaks  and 
maples,  and  then  at  the  openings  of  the  meadows  changing 
to  a  shrill  whistle  as  it  flew  through  the  fences,  and  rushed  on 
over  the  dying  grass  of  the  autumn.  The  eyes  of  the  driver 
were  directed  steadily  and  searchingly  ahead,  while  Ruther 
ford  never  withdrew  his  gaze  from  the  dark  hood  which 
was  beside  him.  Perfect  silence  had  been  maintained  for 
nearly  four  miles.  The  captive,  for  a  time,  had  seemed  be 
wildered  by  the  fantastic  play  of  the  lantern  light  upon  the 
harness  ornaments  of  the  flying  steed,  and  upon  the  ever- 
changing  styles  of  the  fencing  which  bordered  the  highway. 
Occasionally  she  had  turned  a  startled  look  into  the  serious 
countenance  of  Nora,  and  then  whirled  suddenly  around  to 
study  her  left-hand  guardian.  Meeting  nothing  but  an 
expression  of  thoughtful  and  attentive  solicitude  in  those 
manly  eyes,  ever  directed  to  her,  she  had  resumed  her  study 
of  the  light  and  shadow  ahead.  Her  large,  brilliant  eyes, 
gleamed  like  stars  from  the  depths  of  the  long  hood  which 
was  tied  closely  under  her  chin.  A  tress  of  her  disordered 
coal-black  hair  had  wandered  forward  and  spread  over  her 
pale  cheek,  but  it  was  unheeded  by  the  dreamer.  Her  whole 


STORHCLIFF.  75 

soul  was  absorbed  in  contemplation  of  the  fluctuating  light 
and  shadow.  -< 

At  length,  the  sound  of  the  horse's  hoofs  beating  over  a 
little  bridge  appeared  to  recall  her  to  consciousness  of  being 
on  a  journey.  She  turned  quickly  to  Rutherford,  and  said : 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?"  He  answered  quietly :  "  To  the 
place  you  love  best  on  earth." 

"To  Willow  Bend?" 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  to  Willow  Bend.  You  will  sleep 
there  to-night.  You  will  never  leave  it  again  unless  you  are 
perfectly  willing  to  do  so." 

This  answer  seemed  to  be  perfectly  satisfactory ;  for  she 
resumed  her  gaze  ahead,  and  whispered  twice :  "  Dear  Willow 
Bend,  dear  Willow  Bend !" 

The  driver  appeared  not  to  notice  this  brief  conversation, 
keeping  her  eyes  fixed  watchfully  upon  the  darkness  ahead. 
Presently  the  horse  slackened  his  pace  and  commenced  to 
walk  ;  they  were  ascending  a  hill.  The  rise  in  the  road  was 
a  long  one,  and  the  sweep  of  the  wind  across  their  route  was 
now  more  distinctly  audible,  sighing  along  the  grass,  and  fret 
ting  against  the  fence  bars  with  a  hollow  moan.  Slowly  and 
painfully  the  horse  toiled  upward,  for  the  sound  of  yielding 
sand  was  heard  under  the  wheels.  When  the  summit  was  at 
length  reached,  the  driver  allowed  the  horse  to  rest  a  mo 
ment.  He  well  deserved  it,  having  traversed  nearly  five 
miles  of  difficult  road  at  a  rapid  pace,  and  with  an  unusual 
load.  Glancing  ahead,  Nora  discovered  that  they  were  about 
to  descend  into  a  valley,  for  lights  from  a  house  glimmered 
far  below  them.  Looking  more  closely  at  the  dwelling,  she 
discovered  an  unusual  number  of  lighted  windows  for  a  pri 
vate  residence,  and  said  to  Rutherford  : 

"  I  am  confident  that  must  be  the  Rutger  tavern  ;  it  will 
never  do  to  pass  it  with  this  light.  I  will  wrap  the  lantern 
in  my  shawl  till  we  have  passed  it.  Too  many  curious  eyes 
are  always  on  the  look-out  there." 

A  rumbling  sound  attracted  her  attention  as  she  ceased, 


76  STORMCLIFF. 

and,  turning  back,  she  beheld  a  light  advancing  on  the  road 
they  ha*  just  traversed.  Some  vehicle  was  evidently  cross 
ing  the  bridge  behind  them.  It  would  never  do  to  allow  the 
stranger  to  come  up  with  them.  They  might  be  recognised, 
and  utter  secresy  was  the  object  of  the  night-ride.  She  gave 
the  horse  a  sharp  cut  with  the  whip,  and  he  started  off 
with  a  jerk  down  the  hill  towards  the  tavern.  She  deemed  it 
best  to  hazard  the  dangers  of  the  descent,  and  snatching  the 
lantern  from  Rutherford's  lap,  concealed  it  under  her  shawl. 
The  vehicle  bounded  roughly  from  side  to  side  in  the  ruts  of 
the  unseen  road,  as  the  horse  dashed  rapidly  down  the  hill ; 
but  the  instinct  of  the  beast  kept  him  to  the  centre  of  the 
highway,  and  the  lights  of  the  tavern  soon  appeared  distinctly 
and  close  at  hand.  The  hurrying  steed  would  have  brought 
them  in  a  few  seconds  more  to  the  front  of  the  public-house, 
when  just  as  the  level  of  the  valley  was  reached,  Nora  put 
forth  all  her  strength  and  reined  him  to  a  dead  stop.  She 
discovered  at  that  instant  a  vehicle  with  a  light  whirl  up  in 
front  of  the  tavern  from  a  side  road.  That  light  would  cer 
tainly  fall  directly  in  the  faces  of  her  party,  if  she  at  tempted 
to  pass.  Here  was  an  obstacle  in  her  very  path. '  She  could 
not  go  on  yet,  and  soon  the  strange  light  behind  her  would 
come  up.  What  should  she  do  ?  At  this  juncture  she  heard 
a  voice  call  out  to  the  tavern :  "  Rutger !  has  anything 
passed  here  in  an  hour  going  towards  Robb's  ?"  That  was 
a  startling  question  to  her.  That  was  her  intended  route. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  any  one  was  looking  after  her — was 
intending  to  stop  her  ?  She  looked  about  her  in  the  darkness. 
She  knew  two  other  and  unoccupied  roads  converged  very 
near  the  spot  where  she  was  standing  at  that  moment.  Either 
would  conduct  her  circuitously  to  her  destination.  She  could 
find  them  by  the  use  of  her  lantern  for  a  few  seconds.  But 
she  dreaded  to  expose  her  light.  The  thought  flashed  to  her 
mind — what  if  the  captive  lady  should  discover  her  uncertain 
ty  of  purpose,  and  take  it  into  her  head  to  set  up  one  of  her 
violent  yells  ?  That  would  determine  the  direction  of  her 


STOBMCLIPF.  77 

pursuers,  if  pursuers  they  really  were.  She  leaned  back 
behind  the  captive  and  whispered  her  difficulties  to  Ruther 
ford,  who  had  been  surprised  by  the  apparently  capricious 
actions  of  the  driver.  He  glanced  ahead  ;  there  was  the  light 
most  assuredly,  directly  in  their  way.  He  looked  back  the 
way  they  had  come.  There  was  another  light  just  coming 
'into  view,  evidently  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  down  which  they 
had  come  so  fiercely.  There  were  still  two  unseen  roads  for 
escape,  but  the  lantern  must  come  forth  from  its  hiding-place, 
to  find  them  in  that  Egyptian  darkness.  The  light  would 
be  the  signal  for  pursuit.  He  was  a  quick  thinker  and  actor 
for  an  emergency.  He  whispered  to  Nora  : 

"  You  must  jump  out  instantly  and  hide  yourself — we  are 
overloaded.  There  is  not  one  iota  of  a  chance  for  us,  in  the 
event  of  a  race.  Three  persons  will  break  down  this  horse 
in  less  than  two  miles,  if  it  comes  to  a  run.  With  two  per 
sons,  even,  the  chances  would  be  against  us,  for  I  shall  have 
to  hold  her  in  and  fight  with  her  when  you  leave  her.  But 
by  the  Lord  Harry!  my  blood  is  just  getting  up.  Give  me 
the  reins  and  the  lantern,  and  jump  out  as  quick  as  you  can. 
It's  our  only  chance,  and  don't  let  us  be  thwarted  after  accom 
plishing  so  much.  Jump  right  out,  Nora.  Trust  me  to  deli 
ver  this  charge  safe  at  Willow  Bend.  Jump!" 

Nora  Rudd  had  her  strong  points,  too.  She  saw  the  main 
chance,  and  grappled  it.  She  climbed  out  of  the  vehicle  and 
flung  herself  flat  in  the  ditch  beside  the  road.  As  she  did  so, 
she  heard  the  pursuing  wheels  coming  down  the  hill.  At 
that  moment,  a  long,  frightful  yell  of  terror  pierced  the  dark 
ness.  It  was  the  blood-curdling  cry  of  the  insane.  The  poor 
lady  was  struggling  in  the  arms  of  a  stranger,  for  liberty  to 
follow  her  friend.  That  cry  as  suddenly  and  as  startlingly 
ceased,  and  Nora  heard  no  other  sound  in  the  awful  dark 
ness.  She  crawled  out  of  the  ditch  and  stood  upright.  A 
light,  far  away  in  the  distance,  was  cleaving  the  darkness. 
Two  other  lights  were  at  intervals  behind  it,  evidently  in 
pursuit.  She  stood  motionless,  and  eagerly  watching  the 


78  STOBMCLIFF. 

three  lights,  till  they  faded  away  in  the  distance.  Then  she 
grasped  her  steel-pointed  staff,  and  slowly  walked  on  in  the 

direction  they  had  gone. 

********** 

Not  a  star  glimmered,  and  the  dread  monarch,  darkness, 
struggled  with  the  storm.  The  lonely  forest,  shrouded  in  mys 
tery  and  gloom,  roared  and  tossed  its  branches  to  the  howling 
wind.  The  freezing  blast  bound  the  curving  brooks  in  icy 
fetters,  and  the  once  soft  track  of  the  forest  road  was  frozen 
hard  in  ruts.  The  trees  bent  low  before  the  gale,  and  flung 
their  dead  leaves  rattling  to  the  ground.  The  arms  of  the 
maples  clashed  together,  the  ivy  shivered  and  clung  closer  to 
the  oak,  and  the  dead  branches  of  the  pines  fell  with  a  crash 
upon  the  hidden  rocks.  The  fox  slunk  away  to  his  warm 
hole  in  terror,  and  the  wild  hawk  brooded  low  upon  her 
storm-rocked  nest.  Suddenly  a  light  penetrated  the  gloom 
of  the  roaring  forest,  coming  along  the  frozen  road.  It  flashed 
upon  the  clinging  mosses  of  the  rocks,  it  danced  in  fantastic 
shapes  through  the  woven  branches  of  the  thicket,  and  occa 
sionally  brought  out  in  strange  relief  the  ragged  trunk  of  an 
oak.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  startling  brightness. 

o  o 

Hark !  A  sound,  not  of  the  forest  or  the  storm,  is  faintly 
heard.  The  rays  flash  brighter,  and  the  sound  waxes  louder, 
and  the  wild  pageant  draws  nearer.  The  beating  of  flying 
hoofs  and  the  rattle  of  light  wheels,  are  coming  over  the 
frozen  ruts,  and  there  seems  a  madness  in  the  sound  ;  for  the 
road  is  narrow  and  tortuous,  and  a  slight  deviation  from  the 
beaten  path  would  dash  the  vehicle  to  atoms  on  rocks  and 
fallen  timber  in  the  darkness.  Nearer  and  nearer  rattle  the 
wheels;  broader  and  clearer  flash  out<the  rays  of  the  strange 
light.  The  wild  racer  of  the  midnight  comes  like  the  wind. 
Foam-flecked  and  eager,  he  flings  forward  his  hoofs,  and  the 
vehicle  sways  from  side  to  side  in  the  frozen  ruts,  and  the 
wild  pageant  flies  on.  Ah !  the  gleaming  ferocity  of  a  mani 
ac's  eyes  is  there,  under  the  dark  hood  No  wonder  the 
steed  whirls  the  vehicle  past  destruction  each  instant,  in  the 


STORMCLIFF.  79 

death-curves  of  that  wild  forest  darkness.  But  no,  the  luna 
tic  is  powerless,  held  down  to  her  seat  by  an  iron  grip,  while 
reason  and  indomitable  will  hold  the  reins.  His  left  arm  is 
clasped  firmly  about  her  waist,  and  with  the  other  arm  he 
guides  the  flying  steed  through  the  devious  ways  of  the  forest 
path.  His  eye  flashes  with  tire  and  purpose,  and  he  deserves 
to  win  ;  for  his  motive  is  to  save  that  poor,  frightened,  help 
less  woman  from  the  lash  of  her  keeper. 

A  new  impetus  seemed  to  be  communicated  to  the  gale. 
The  treertops  bent  lower,  the  leaves  fell  more  thickly,  the 
howls  of  the  storm  waxed  louder,  and  great  branches  were 
wrenched  from  the  trunks  and  cast  upon  the  road.  One 
huge  limb  fell  partly  upon  the  horse,  and  he  dashed  frantically 
ahead.  Scarcely  had  he  gone  a  rod  further,  when  a  maple- 
tree  was  rent  asunder  at  its  crotch,  and  one  ragged  half 
crashed  down  directly  across  the  road.  The  race  was  ended. 
The  vehicle  was  suddenly  checked.  The  barrier  was  impas 
sable.  The  plunging  steed  was  soon  quieted,  and  the  driver, 
securing  a  firmer  hold  on  his  captive,  turned  around  and 
looked  back  over  his  route.  Distant  rays  of  light  were  visi 
ble.  The  pursuers  were  on  his  track.  There  was  no  time  to 
lose,  and  the  vehicle  must  be  abandoned  now.  He  said  to  his 
prisoner : 

"  Yonder  come  your  enemies  and  mine  ;  Nora  is  my  friend, 
and  trusts  you  to  me.  If  those  men  overtake  us,  you  will  be 
dragged  off  again  to,  the  Asylum.  I  am  trying  to  save  you. 
If  I  cut  away  the  cord  from  your  wrists  and  free  you,  will 
you  hide  with  me  in  the  bushes  till  they  come  up,  and  then 
spring  out  upon  them,  and  help  me  bind  them  with  the  cord 
I  cut  away  from  your  hands  ?  Promise  me  quick — for  there 
is  no  time  to  lose." 

She  looked  steadily  at  Rutherford's  face,  as  if  bewildered 
by  the  question.  Then  she  cast  an  anxious  glance  backward 
,t  the  approaching  lights.  That  appeared  to  decide  her,  for 
she  said  impressively : 

"  I  am  a  lady,  sir — my  word  is  unimpeachable — I  will  assist 


80  STORMCLIFF. 

you,  because  you  look  honest — I  am  an  excellent  judge  of 
physiognomy.  There  is  the  character  of  truth  in  your  face, 
and  you  will  save  me  and  take  me  to  Nora — will  you?" 

"  As  sure  as  there  is  a  God,  I  will,"  he  answered ;  "  but 
you  must  lie  down  in  the  bushes  and  remain  silent  till  I 
spring  upon  them ;  then  you  fly  at  them  and  help  me  bind 
them.  I  will  give  the  cord  to  you — come  now." 

He  relinquished  his  hold  upon  her  waist  and  drew  his 
knife  from  his  pocket.  In  a  moment  she  was  cut  loose. 

He  jumped  to  the  ground,  followed  by  the  lunatic.  He 
secured  his  horse  to  the  fallen  tree*  Then  he  selected  a 
hiding-place  for  her  in  the  bushes  near  the  road,  and  told  her 
to  conceal  the  lantern  under  her  cloak.  Finding  his  directions 
obeyed  with  perfect  readiness,  he  crossed  to  the  opposite 
side  of  the  road  and  crawled  under  the  dense  undergrowth 
of  the  forest.  All  was  now  dark  and  gloomy.  He  tied  his 
handkerchief  over  his  face,  leaving  barely  space  to  see.  He 
did  not  desire  to  be  recognised  when  the  pursuing  light 
should  come  up.  The  howls  and  whistling  of  the  wind  con 
tinued  above  his  hiding-place.  The  freezing  blast  chilled 
his  blood,  but  his  sympathies  and  anxieties  were  for  the  wild 
being  who  lay  crouching  somewhere  out  there  in  the  dark 
ness.  He  could  hear  no  sound  from  her  place  of  conceal 
ment.  The  dreadful  wind  drowned  every  other  noise  save 
the  occasional  crash  of  the  rending  branches.  Finally,  in 
the  midst  of  a  roar  of  wind,  which  threatened  to  level  every 
tree  to  the  earth,  a  flash  of  light  came  to  Rutherford  under 
the  bushes.  The  pursuing  vehicle  and  horse  were  arrested 
by  the  sight  of  his  own  horse  tied  to  the  fallen  maple.  He 
heard  an  exclamation  of  surprise  from  the  pursuing  officer 
of  the  law,  but  remained  perfectly  motionless  in  his  retreat. 
To  his  delight,  he  saw  there  was  only  one  foe  to  grapple 
with.  The  pursuer  left  his  vehicle,  and  held  his  lantern  high 
in  the  air  as  he  looked  about  him.  Finding  nothing  of  the 
fugitives,  he  proceeded  to  fasten  his  horse  to  the  rear  of 
Rutherford's  vehicle,  then  drawing  a  pistol  from  his  breast 


STORHCLIFF.  81 

pocket,  he  commenced  to  beat  the  bushes,  holding  hig 
lantern  low  down  to  the  ground.  He  approached  very  close 
to  Rutherford,  but  did  not  discover  him.  Turning  away,  he 
heard  a  twig  snap  behind  him,  and  the  next  instant  he  was 
flung  headlong  to  the  earth,  and  the  matchless  power  of  the 
outcast's  arms  and  breast  held  him  there.  A  dark  figure 
with  another  lantern  opened  a  way  for  herself  through  the 
undergrowth  and  came  to  his  assistance.  While  Rutherford 
held  the  officer  down,  she  bound  his  arms  together  behind 
him.  Then  the  prisoner  was  blindfolded  and  led  away  to  his 
horse.  He  was  laid  in  his  vehicle,  and  Rutherford  having 
unfastened  his  horse  and  turned  him  around,  sprang  to  his 
seat  and  drove  slowly  off  with  him.  The  lunatic  loosed 
Rutherford's  steed  from  the  tree  and  drove  along  after  them, 
carrying  her  lantern  with  a  quiet  smile  illumining  her  pale 
face,  and  .with  a  man's  cloak  wrapped  tightly  about  her. 

After  a  drive  of  nearly  a  mile,  they  reached  a  cross-road, 
where  the  horse  of  the  captive  was  secured  to  a  fence,  that  he 
might  be  liberated  by  some  chance  traveller  on  the  ensuing 
morning.  Then  Rutherford  abandoned  his  prisoner  to  the 
solitude  and  gloom  of  the  night ;  and  rejoining  the  lunatic  in 
his  own  vehicle,  took  the  reins  and  turned  down  the  cross-road, 
intending  to  gain  his  destination  by  a  still  more  circuitous 
route.  The  lady  submitted  to  his  assumption  of  the  reins 
and  relapsed  into  silence  again,  after  his  brief  sentence 
of  encouragement  whispered  in  her  ear :  "  "We  shall  soon  be 
at  Willow  Bend." 


CHAPTER  VTII. 

HE  stood  alone  in  the  chill  night  gazing  at  the  stars. 
The  brook  was  frozen  at  his  feet,  and  the  willows  drooped 
low  to  its  glassy  surface.  Through  their  branches  he  was 
studying  the  eternal  planets,  and  their  cold,  solemn  light  had 


82  STORMCLIFF. 

soothed  the  passions  of  his  earth-nature.  What  mattered 
it  that  society  avoided  him  and  men  looked  coldly  upon  him, 
when  the  eternal  power  which  lighted  those  ancient  lamps 
in  the  sky  was  his  Father  and  Friend.  It  would  only  be  a 
few  years  at  the  farthest  when  the  delicate  thread  of  life 
would  be  severed,  and  he  would  be  beyond  those  stars.  That 
mighty  Architect,  at  whose  breath  worlds  sprang  into  exist 
ence,  was  a  firmer  friend  and  more  reliable  comfort  than 
earth's  gifted  and  imperial  ones  could  ever  be.  And  as  he 
gazed  upon  the  star-gemmed  expanse,  he  was  conscious  that 
his  soul  was  enlarging;  that  the  ambitious  aims  of  the  chil 
dren  of  men  were  grovelling,  and  that  few  approximated  to 
the  life  for  which  God  intended  them — the  life  of  aspiration 
and  effort  towards  celestial  purity  and  usefulness.  If,  then, 
this  consciousness  of  an  immortal  destiny,  which  throbbed  in 
the  heart  and  quivered  in  the  brain,  was  sent  to  guide  mor 
tals  heavenward,  would  not  a  considerate  Father  offer  every 
aid  to  a  lonely  being  buffeting  the  waves  of  life  ?  Would 
not  His  airy  messengers,  the  sympathetic  angels,  float  ever 
between  earth  and  heaven,  with  words  of  admonition  and 
cheer  to  the  struggling  ?  Oh  !  would  not  their  noiseless 
footfalls  circle  round  the  tempted,  and  their  misty  pinions 
awe  back  the  spirits  of  evil  ?  Would  not  aspirations,  and 
prayers,  and  yearnings,  call  down  the  fluttering  wings  of 
angels  anxious  to  lead  and  point  to  God  ?  Would  not  the 
silver  rays  which  from  the  planets  come  be  ever  traversed  by 
celestial  footsteps  on  their  missions  of  peace  and  love  ? 

The  poor 'deserted  child  of  misfortune  extended  his  arms 
towards  the  matchless  beauty  of  the  stars: 

"  My  Eternal  Father,  stretch  forth  Thine  arm  to  me.  The 
proud  love  of  a  human  father  is  denied  ;  the  gentle  hand  of 
a  mother  will  never  press  my  brow;  a  sister's  tenderness 
must  be  for  me  only  a  dream.  But  Thou  art  my  God,  and 
against  Thy  will  I  will  never  murmur.  Lonely,  deserted, 
and  outcast  as  I  am,  I  am  still  Thy  child.  I  feel  the  throb 
of  Eternity  in  my  pulse,  and  my  brain  is  the  herald  that  pro- 


STOKMCJLIFF.  83 

claims  my  divine  ancestry.  Speak  to  me  then,  O  Father! 
in  my  desolation.  Strengthen  me  in  my  purpose  to  serve 
Thee  by  battling  for  humanity,  and  truth,  and  justice.  I  am 
conscious  of  my  power  to  win  eartbly  fame  ;  a  temporal 
crown  seems  almost  within  my  grasp.  Oh !  grant  that  I 
may  use  that  croAvn  only  in  obedience  to  Thy  will,  and  as  a 

means  to  attain  the  crown  of  the  skies.    Inasmuch  as  I  am 

t 

denied  the  love  of  kindred,  graciously  bestow  upon  me  the 
gift  of  an  angel's  love.  When  I  am  sorely  tempted,  let  me 
feel  the  presence  of  Thy  messenger.  The  prayer  of  faith 
shall  remove  mountains.  Then  may  this  prayer  make  me 
conscious  of  an  angel's  guardian  care,  when  pride,  and  suc 
cess,  and  ambition  shall  beleaguer  my  soul." 

His  outstretched  arms  fell  again  to  his  side,  and  he  was  on 
the  point  of  turning  away  from  the  frozen  stream  and  the 
trees  of  "  Willow  Bend,"  when  he  was  startled  by  the  soft, 
warm  pressure  of  a  little  hand  laid  in  his  own.  He  looked 
down,  and  beheld  the  eyes  of  a  child  gazing  steadily  into  his 
face.  He  had  seen  her  in  the  cottage  close  at  hand,  where 
he  had  left  the  lunatic  in  charge  of  her  daughter  the  night 
before.  The  resemblance  to  this  daughter  was  so  perfect 
that  it  was  needless  to  inform  him  this  child  was  the  grand 
daughter  of  the  insane  lady.  The  raven  black  curls,  the 
dark,  lustrous  eyes,  veiled  often  by  long  silken  eyelashes  of 
jet  black  hue,  the  alabaster  whiteness  of  the  skin,  the  per 
fect  oval  of  the  face,  the  thinly-chiselled  and  straight  nose, 
and  the  refined  delicacy  of  the  thin,  spiritual  lips,  were  evi 
dently  the  inheritance  from  the  lunatic's  daughter. 

Rutherford  was  conscious,  after  a  few  hours'  delay  in  wait 
ing  for  N"ora  Rudd  at  Willow  Bend,  that  a  mystery  attached 
to  the  occupants  of  the  cottage.  <  The  beautiful  mother  of 
the  child,  though  courteous  in  the  extreme,  and  evidently 
thoroughly  grateful  to  her  guest  for  restoring  her  unfor 
tunate  mother  to  her  keeping,  appeared  to  be  oppressed  by 
some  hidden  grief,  which  gave  to  her  large,  lustrous  eyea 
ever-recurring  expressions  of  sadness.  If  death  had  recently 


84  STORMCLIFF. 

deprived  her  of  a  husband's  love  and  care,  surely  the  habili 
ments  of  mourning  would  be  more  appropriate  than  the 
chaste  elegance  of  the  rich  silk  she  wore.  It  might  be  that 
a  living  husband  was  estranged  or  absent.  If  only  absent, 
some  casual  remark  would  surely  betray  the  wanderer's  claim 
to  remembrance.  But  if  estranged — ah !  that  would  be  suf 
ficient  explanation  of  the  sadness  which  veiled  that  mother's 
beauty,  and  gave  to  her  eyes  that  pleading  pathos.  Though 
Rutherford  had  slept  at  the  cottage  after  delivering  his 
charge,  and,  indeed,  had  passed  the  whole  of  the  ensuing 
day  upon  the  premises  of  Willow  Bend,  not  one  word  had 
escaped  the  lips  of  child,  or  mother,  or  grandmother,  to 
indicate  the  existence  of  a  master  of  the  property.  The 
dwelling  was  not  devoid  of  family  portraits  and  miniatures, 
but  no  likeness  of  the  child's  father  was  among  them.  The 
little  girl  had  informed  the  stranger  guest  of  this  fact  as  she 
sat  upon  his  knee  and  explained  to  him  the  likenesses  upon 
the  parlor  walls.  In  response  to  his  inquiries,  the  child  had 
seemed  bewildered.  "  I  don't  know  where  my  father  is.  I 
never  saw  him,  and  mamma  never  talks  about  that."  In 
reply  to  another  interrogatory,  she  had  said :  "  My  mother  is 
Mrs.  Granville,  and  my  name  is  Zoe  Granville." 

Nora  Rudd  had  succeeded  in  eluding  the  vigilance  of  her 
pursuers,  and  arrived  at  Willow  Bend  on  the  ensuing  morn 
ing,  and  a  few  hours  after  Rutherford.  She  was  so  ex 
hausted  by  her  long  walk  and  by  excitement,  that  she  had 
remained  the  entire  day  in  her  bed  at  the  cottage,  intending 
to  accompany  the  lawyer  in  her  vehicle  on  his  return  to  his 
office  after  nightfall.  Her  sleep  had  been  prolonged  beyond 
his  expectation,  and,  being  unwilling  to  arouse  her,  he  had 
wandered  off  under  the  willows,  lighted  by  the  stars.  It 
was  here  that  little  Zoe  Granville  found  him  absorbed  in 
reverie,  and  had  stolen  noiselessly  to  his  side  and  put  her 
hand"  in  his. 

The  child's  figure  was  faintly  revealed  in  the  starlight,  and 
she  appeared  muffled  carefully  against  the  cold  night  air. 


STORMCLIFF.  85 

She  made  no  remark,  but  turned  her  eyes  upon  the  constel 
lations  which  had  engrossed  his  attention,  holding  on  to  his 
hand  all  the  while.  He  was  struck  by  the  perfect  quiet  and 
apparent  appreciation  of  his  young  companion.  After  wait 
ing  in  silence  a  few  moments  to  see  if  she  would  not  speak 
first  and  explain  the  reason  of  her  coming,  and  finding  that 
she  was  completely  absorbed  in  study  of  the  sky,  he  said : 

"  Zoe,  what  are  you  thinking  about  so  intently  ?" 

The  answer  fell  softly  and  gently  upon  the  night  air  like 
the  exquisite  and  dying  cadence  of  a  flute. 

"  That  is  my  own  dear  home."  She  pointed  her  finger  to 
the  celestial  lamps.  Then  her  arm  quietly  fell,  and  she 
remained  silent  and  watchful  of  the  heavens  as  before. 
There  was  a  singular  impressiveness  and  majesty  in  her  tone 
and  manner,  as  if  she  were  a  young  princess  pointing  out  her 
future  domain. 

He  said,  in  surprise: 

"But  Willow  Bend  is  your  home.  Your  mother  and  all 
that  you  love  are  here." 

Again  the  flute-note  melody  of  her  reply:  "My  father 
lives  in  the  stars,  and  I  am  going  to  him." 

"  Is  your  father  dead,  then  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Nx> !  he  lives  for  ever.  -  He  can  never  die,"  murmured  the 
child,  softly.  Then,  as  if  awakening  from  a  reverie,  she 
added :  "  God  is  my  father.  He  lives  away  up  there,  and  He 
talks  to  me  when  I  come  here  sometimes.  Zoe  has  no  father 
like  other  little  girls — so  God  is  my  father." 

The  sweetness  and  pathos  of  her  tone  touched  his  heart, 
for  he  said  tenderly :  "  Your  mother  told  you  this ;  did  she 
not?" 

The  child,  without  removing  her  gazfe  from  the  heavens, 
answered,  "  No !  The  angels  told  me." 

Still  more  astonished,  he  continued  :  "  Zoe,  we  cannot  see 
or  hear  the  angels  talk  until  we  are  dead." 

The  quiet  little  dreamer  now  tui'ned  her  large,  surprised 
eyes  upon  Rutherford. 


86  STORMCLIFF. 

"  Some  people  can  see  them ;  old  Nora  says  so.  When 
the  moon  shines  in  my  window  I  can  see  them,  too.  Old 
Nora  taught  me  a  little  prayer,  and  this  is  what  it  says  : 
'  Oh !  my  Heavenly  Father,  keep  my  guardian  angels  close 
to  me  in  this  life,  for  Thou  hast  said  the  angels  of  little 
children  do  always  behold  the  face  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
Heaven.'  There  is  ever  so  much  more  in  that  prayer,  and 
when  I  lie  awake  in  my  bed  and  say  that  prayer,  sometimes 
the  angels  fly  through  the  moonlight  and  talk  to  me,  and  sit 
on  my  bed.  I  told  old  Nora,  and  she  put  both  her  arms 
around  me,  and  said  I  must  try  to  be  very  good,  because  my 
Father  in  Heaven  was  going  to  take  me  to  the  stars  before 
long.  I  wish  he  would  take  mamma,  too.  Poor  mamma 
cries  so  much  at  night,  and  she  never  will  tell  me  what's  the 
matter,  but" — 

She  paused  suddenly,  and  looked  up  anxiously  at  her  com 
panion's  face  as  if  she  had  trespassed  upon  forbidden  .ground. 

"  Why  do  you  stop,  little  Zoe — are  you  afraid  of  me  ?  I 
am  old  Nora's  friend,  and  she  trusts  me  —  why  will  not 
you?" 

She  appeared  to  ponder  the  matter  for  an  instant ;  then 
she  said  quietly :  "  Mamma  forbade  me  to  talk  about  her  cry 
ing,  and  old  Nora  says  I  must  mind  mamma  if  I  want  the 
good  angels  to  come.  Oh  !  see  that  star  shoot ;  I  think  that 
is  the  chariot  God  sends  the  angels  down  in,  to  see  us — don't 
you  ?  " 

The  child's  low,  musical  tones,  and  her  poetic  conceit, 
charmed  her  listener,  and  he  sought  to  discover  from  con 
tinued  discourse  with  her,  who  had  instilled  these  fancies  of 
angel  presence  into  her  dawning  intellect.  But  all  his  inge 
nuity  was  baffled  by  her  replies.  Zoe  maintained  that  celes 
tial  beings,  misty  and  beautiful,  had  actually  visited  her 
chamber  and  talked  with  her,  smoothed  gently  and  lovingly 
her  curling  hair,  and  told  her  to  be  of  good  cheer,  for  God, 
her  only  Father,  loved  her.  They  had  been  manifested  to 
her,  particularly  after  unusual  earnestness  in  saying  her 


STORMCLIFF.  87 

prayers ;  and  at  last  she  had  learned  to  love  them  so  in 
tensely,  and  to  look  for  their  coming  so  eagerly,  that  she 
had  culled  the  choicest  flowers  of  the  garden  and  placed  a 
little  bouquet  in  her  window  every  moonlight  night  to  lure 
them  into  her  room.  A  picture  of  the  Saviour,  which  old 
Nora  had  given  her,  seemed  to  please  her  angelic  visitors 
above  everything  else  in  her  room.  Jesus  was  represented 
in  the  act  of  blessing  little  children,  and  the  engraving  hung 
near  the  foot  of  her  bed.  She  declared  that  softly  gliding 
angels  had  passed  through  the  moonlight  and  knelt  before 
this  picture,  kissing  the  feet  of  their  Lord. 

The  assurance  of  little  Zoe's  tone,  and  the  matter-of-fact 
way  in  which  she  discoursed  of  her  supernatural  visions,  con 
vinced  him  that  the  child  was  gifted  with  an  unusual  power  of 
imagination,  and  that  she  had  actually  come  to  believe  she 
could  see  what  pious  friends  must  have  constantly  taught  her 
existed  about  her  in  the  eye  of  faith  only.  An  indefinable 
fascination  was  gradually  weaving  itself  about  him  as  he 
listened  to  her  flute-like  melody  of  tone.  Unconsciously  the 
little  girl  had  led  him  away  by  the  hand  as  they  talked,  until 
the  frozen  stream  and  the  drooping  willows  were  left  far 
behind  them.  At  length  a  dense  mass  of  forest  trees  loomed 
up  against  the  starry  sky,  and  recalled  Rutherford  to  con 
sciousness  of  terrestrial  affairs  once  more.  The  long  dark 
outline  of  the  trees,  partly  stripped  of  their  autumnal  foliage, 
seemed  to  be  a  boundary  to  the  meadow  of  Willow  Bend.  He 
looked  away  to  the  right  and  discovered  the  light  streaming 
out  from  the  window  of  the  cottage  where  he  was  still  a  guest. 
He  noticed,  too,  that  little  Zoe  was  leading  him  towards  he* 
home  by  a  circuitous  path,  in  which  the  grass  was  worn 
away  by  continual  passing  of  feet.  This  curving  path  led 
them  at  one  point  very  close  to  the  boundary  forest,  and  in 
answer  to  his  inquiries,  his  guide  informed  him  that  the 
Willow  Bend  property  adjoined  the  great  park  of  "  The 
Glen,"  which  she  said  was  owned  now  by  a  young  widow, 
who  lived  far  away  over  the  seas.  At  least,  her  mother  had 


88  STOKMCLIFF. 

told  her  so.  She  informed  him  also  that  the  brook  which 
flowed  through  her  mother's  estate,  and  which  sustained  the 
roots  of  so  many  willow-trees,  came  from  the  woodlands  of 
"  The  Glen."  She  had  followed  up  this  brook  herself,  in  the 
summer-time,  as  far  as  the  high  fence  which  inclosed  the 
young  widow's  park,  and  she  was  sure  the  water-lilies  of 
"  The  Glen  "  were  finer  than  those  in  her  mother's  place,  for 
she  had  peeped  through  the  paling  and  seen  them.  "  Oh  ! 
how  I  wish  I  could  get  some  of  those  white  lilies  for  my 
dear  angels.  I'm  sure  they  would  like  them  in  my  window 
so  much."  She  said  this  with  so  much  enthusiasm,  that  he 
caught  her  up  in  his  arms  and  said :  "  You  dear,  innocent 
child — it  must  be  that  you  really  do  see  the  angels." 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  she  replied;  "I  told  you  that  long  ago." 
In  another  instant,  they  reached  the  porch  of  the  cottage, 
with  its  network  of  leafless  vines ;  Rutherford  still  holding 
the  child  in  his  arms.  A  bright  firelight  from  the  hearth 
illumined  every  object  within,  and  the  red  light  streamed  out 
through  the  uncurtained  windows.  He  paused  a  moment 
outside,  to  study  the  strange  tableau  within.  The  inmates 
were  grouped  about  the  great  fire,  listening  to  old  Nora 
reading  the  Scriptures.  The  red  light  danced  upon  her 
uncovered  head  of  smooth,  glistening  black  hair,  and  her  dark 
figure  threw  a  long  shadow  fluttering  upon  the  wall  overhead. 
The  high  mantelpiece  sustained  two  immense  candlesticks 
of  solid  silver,  grotesquely  fashioned,  which  must  have  been 
made  in  the  olden  time  for  some  family  of  decided  claim  to 
regard  in  society.  Instead  of  wax  candles,  which  would 
have  seemed  appropriate  to  their  solid  richness,  they  sustained 
silver  lamps  fitted  into  their  sockets,  which  cast  a  soft,  yellow 
light  upon  the  wall.  Between  the  lamps  a  portrait  graced 
the  wall — a  young  lady,  perhaps  sixteen  years  old.  It  was 
unquestionably  the  mother  of  little  Zoe,  when  care  and 
sorrow  had  been  only  names,  not  facts.  The  young  mother, 
who  sat  in  her  rocking-chair  near  Nora,  with  the  expres 
sion  of  anguish  scarcely  subdued  by  the  interest  with  which 


STOBMCLIFF.  89 

she  was  listening  to  God's  word,  was  a  beauty  of  finer 
development  than  that  of  the  portrait.  She  looked  too 
young  to  suffer  mental  anguish.  Her  large  eyes  were  turned 
upon  the  reader  eagerly,  agonizingly,  as  Mary  Magdalen  is 
sometimes  painted  clinging  to  the  foot  of  the  cross.  She 
was  drinking  in  every  word,  as  if  the  first  faint  breath 
of  a  merciful  God's  pardon  was  beginning  to  whisper  over 
the  storm  of  her  soul.  Her  graceful  white  hands,  thin,  with 
tapering  fingers,  were  clasped  together  in  her  lap,  and  she 
leaned  forward  in  the  act  of  listening. 

Behind  Mrs.  Granville  was  something  stranger  still :  the 
lunatic  lady,  the  beautiful  grandmother,  chained  by  the 
waist  to  an  iron  ring  secured  to  the  dark  wainscot.  She 
was  seated  comfortably  on  a  cushioned  seat,  and  leaned 
easily  against  the  wall.  She,  too,  was  listening  with  the 
apparent  appreciation  of  a  cultivated  intellect.  Every 
allusion  in  the  Scriptures  to  the  wonderful  mercy  of  God 
seemed  to  win  her  respectful  attention,  and  she  turned 
with  looks  of  unutterable  fondness  to  the  figure  oft  Mrs. 
Granville,  whose  countenance  was  turned  partially  away 
from  her.  But  when  the  word  "  justice "  fell  from  the 
lips  of  the  reader,  she  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  yell  of 
terrible  ferocity,  and  with  blazing  eyes  tugged  violently  at 
the  chain  which  held  her  to  the  wall.  The  quiet,  beautiful 
listener  was  instantly  transformed  into  a  howling  fiend.  Her 
daughter  tried  to  pacify  her  in  vain.  But  at  a  word  from 
Nora,  she  sank  back  into  her  seat  and  promised  to  remain 
quiet.  Presently  the  reader  turned  over  several  leaves,  and 
commenced  to  read  of  Christ's  agony  in  the  garden.  Then 
the  poor  creature  placed  her  hands  over  her  eyes  and  wept 
bitterly,  convulsively,  but  without  disturbing  the  reader 
until  the  end.  Then  the  spectator  through  the  window  saw 
Nora  and  Mrs.  Granville  kneel  down  in  prayer. 

"  Don't  you  see  them  ?"  whispered  Zoe  to  her  companion. 

"  Yes,  I  see  them  all — they  are  praying,"  was  the  response ; 
"  and  Nora  seems  to  be  leading  in  the  prayer." 


90  STORMCLIFF. 

"  No  !  no  !'*  said  the  child  impatiently,  "  I  mean  the  an- 
gels — can't  you  see  them — one  is  standing  by  N"ora,  and  one 
beside  mother.  Yes !  there  is  another  one  close  by  grand 
mother's  seat.  I  see  them  ever  so  plain.  Their  wings  are 
white  as  snow.  And  oh !  their  beautiful  faces — how  pure 
they  look.  Don't  you  see  their  hands  are  clasped  together 
and  their  eyes  are  looking  up  to  Heaven  ?  They  must  be 
praying,  too — don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  I  can  see  nothing  of  this,  Zoe — you  must  be  a  little 
dreamer,"  said  Rutherford. 

The  little  girl  made  a  gesture  of  impatience,  and  then,  as  if 
the  vision  was  made  more  palpable  to  her,  pointed  energeti 
cally  with  her  finger  :  "  There  they  are — one — two — three — 
just  as  plain  as  a  white  cloud." 

Rutherford  felt  an  indescribable  thrill  of  awe  as  his  eyes 
followed  the  movement  of  her  finger,  and  he  sought  in  vain 
to  discover  the  cause  of  her  excitement.  It  appeared  to  him, 
as  he  reflected  upon  the  scene  hours  afterwards,  that  he  had 
been  conscious  of  a  presence — a  something  in  the  air  which 
his  mortal  eye  could  not  discern,  and  which  had  nevertheless 
impressed  him  with  a  sense  of  purity,  and  holiness,  and  pro 
tecting  power.  This  consciousness  is  difficult  to  express  in 
words,  and  yet  it  will  be  comprehended  by  many  to  whom  it 
has  been  an  actual  experience.  Whatever  it  may  have  been, 
he  gave  himself  for  a  few  moments  absolutely  and  entirely 
up  to  the  soothing  influence,  closing  his  eyes  against  material 
objects,  and  listening  to  the  earnest  voice  of  Nora  calling 
upon  God.  An  earnest,  eager  prayer  of  faith  is  the  summer 
time  of  the  §c-ul.  Power,  and  honor,  and  wealth  lose  their 
illusion,  and  the  child  of  earth  kneels  for  a  moment  at  the 
gate  of  his  eternal  home,  his  loving  Father's  Heaven.  Lov 
ing  eyes  peer  at  him  from  the  battlements — misty  arms  of 
angels  reach  forth  to  the  wanderer,  and  a  waft  of  exquisite 
music  comes  to  his  ear  that  he  may  compare  it  with  earth's 
harmonies  and  beauties,  and  be  dissatisfied. 

"  They  are  gone  now,"  said  the  child,  and  he  opened  his 


STOEMCLIFF.  91 

eyes.  Nora  and  the  beautiful  sufferer  were  rising  from  their 
knees. 

He  entered  the  cottage  then,  carrying  the  little  girl  in  his 
arms.  The  conversation  soon  turned  upon  the  subject  of 
Rutherford's  return  to  the  village,  and  at  a  word  from  Nora 
the  three  retired  to  an  adjacent  room,  to  discuss  the  question 
of  the  lunatic's  guardianship,  leaving  Zoe  in  the  meantime 
with  her  grandmother.  When  they  were  closeted,  a  long 
conversation  ensued  as  to  the  propriety  and  expediency  of 
allowing  their  dangerous  charge  to  remain  at  Willow  Bend. 
In  the  end  the  lunatic  would  inevitably  be  tracked  to  her 
daughter's  home.  The  lawyer,  therefore,  advised  that  she  be 
secreted,  if  practicable,  somewhere  in  the  neighborhood, 
where  Mrs.  Granville  could  have  frequent  access  to  her,  and 
provide  for  her  wants.  There  were  no  pecuniary  obstacles  in 
the  way,  as  the  mistress  of  the  cottage  declared  that  her 
means  were  ample ;  but  who  could  be  found  willing  and  dis 
creet  enough  to  assume  this  custody  of  an  escaped  and  vio 
lent  lunatic  ?  Several  plans  were  submitted  and  discussed  by 
the  trio,  but  upon  careful  and  rigid  analysis,  they  were  aban 
doned.  At  length  Old  Nora,  who  had  been  studying  pro 
foundly  and  in  silence  for  several  minutes,  announced  that 
she  was  willing  herself  to  assume  the  guardianship  until 
Mrs.  Grace  Baltimore  should  return  from  abroad.  She  would 
confine  the  lunatic  secretly  in  a  comfortable  apartment  of 
"  The  Glen,"  and  provide  for  her  wants  during  all  the  time 
the  improvements  and  alterations  were  being  made  upon  that 
property.  Mrs.  Granville  should  have  private  access  to  her 
mother  whenever  she  wished  it,  but  she  would  be  expected 
to  contribute  an  adequate  sum  to  compensate  the  young 
widow,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  for  this  secret  use  of  an  apartment 
on  her  premises  during  her  absence.  Nora  considered  that 
her  custody  of  "The  Glen,"  and  a  proper  regard  to  the  inter 
ests  of  the  absent  widow,  would  authorize  such  a  temporary 
lease  of  a  part  of  the  property. 

At  this  proposition,  the  lawyer  observed  a  quick  dart  of 


92  STORMCLIFF. 

agony  pass  over  Mrs.  Granville's  features.  She  buried  her 
exquisite  face  in  her  hands,  as  if  to  shut  out  her  senses  from 
a  contemplation  of  some  disagreeable,  aye  !  revolting  subject. 
She  exclaimed  bitterly,  vehemently :  "  No !  no ! — that  is  too 
much  to  ask  of  me,  Nora  ;  anything  but  that ;  you  know  I 
can  never  consent  to  allow  my  mother  to  occupy  any  portion 
of  their  property.  I  would  rather  die." 

"  Mrs.  Granville,"  replied  the  old  nurse,  "  I  knew  when 
that  proposition  suggested  itself  to  my  mind  that  your  feel 
ings  would  be  shocked.  You  must  know  that  nothing  but 
dire  necessity,  in  this  present  and  difficult  emergency,  would 
induce  me  to  submit  such  a  disagreeable  plan  to  your  conside 
ration.  Consider  what  difficulties  this  gentleman  and  myself 
have  encountered  to  serve  you  and  yours,  and  then  be  rea 
sonable,  and  endure  this  odious  trial  of  your  feelings  for  our 
sakes  and  your  unfortunate  mother's  sake.  Some  other  re 
source  will  be  extended  to  you  by  a  kind  Providence,  after  a 
brief  period." 

This,  of  course,  was  all  a  mystery  to  Rutherford.  The  in 
mates  of  the  cottage  were  entirely  new  acquaintances  to  him, 
and  the  whole  matter  of  the  lunatic's  rescue  had  been  under 
taken  entirely  out  of  regard  to  his  friend,  the  Old  Nurse. 
He  could  only  wait  events,  and  serve  Nora  blindly,  until  she 
chose  to  enter  into  explanations  of  the  mystery.  Observing 
that  Mrs.  Granville  remained  silent  and  unwilling  to  assent  to 
the  proposition  of  the  old  woman,  he  considerately  withdrew 
to  a  window  and  stood  gazing  out  upon  the  starry  sky. 

Presently  Nora  drew  her  chair  close  to  the  mistress  of  the 
cottage,  and  entered  into  a  lengthy  but  whispered  conversa 
tion  with  her.  Her  arguments  appeared  at  length  to  prevail, 
for  she  turned  to  the  lawyer  and  said : 

"It  is  decided  that  'The  Glen'  shall  be  our  destination 
for  to-night.  So  if  you  will  summon  the  old  negro  servant 
who  is  in  the  kitchen  at  the  end  of  the  hall,  and  tell  him  to 
replenish  my  lantern,  we  will  be  ready  in  a  few  moments  to 
proceed.  Hero  is  a  devoted  and  trusty  servant,  and  we  can 


STORMCLIFF.  93 

fear  nothing  from  his  tongue.  He  has  grown  up  from  child- 
hood  in  this  family.  You  will  have  to  conduct  our  charge 
across  the  meadows  to  '  The  Glen.' 

"  As  soon  as  you  have  accomplished  this  for  us,  you  will  be 
entitled  to  our  everlasting  gratitude.  Then  you  may  return 
here  for  my  horse,  to  take  you  to  the  village.  You  can  send 
him  out  to  me  by  some  person  to-morrow." 

He  turned  away  to  obey  her  instructions,  and  passing 
through  the  apartment  where  the  lunatic  was  confined,  en 
tered  the  hall  and  made  his  way  into  the  kitchen.  Hero,  the 
white-haired  negro,  was  sleeping  on  a  bunk  in  the  corner. 
Rutherford  aroused  him,  and  the  athletic  old  man  sprang  to 
his  feet  with  remarkable  agility  for  his  age.  He  was  certain 
ly  as  old  as  Nora,  and  when  his  tall  figure  and  broad  shoul 
ders  were  fully  revealed  before  the  lawyer,  he  appeared 
worthy  to  be  styled  "  The  Ebony  Hercules."  His  manner 
was  respectful  in  the  extreme,  when  he  recognised  the  rescuer 
of  Mrs.  Granville's  mother.  He  entered  with  alacrity  into 
the  duties  assigned  to  him,  and  long  before  the  remainder  of 
the  lunatic's  escort  were  ready,  he  stood  outside  the  cottage 
door,  lantern  in  hand,  awaiting  their  coming.  The  lawyer 
failed  not  to  observe  the  air  of  ease  and  elegance  which  per 
tained  to  every  inmate  of  the  cottage.  Even  Hero  evidenced 
in  his  bow  and  manner,  and  the  quiet  tones  of  his  voice,  that 
he  was  conscious  of  being  a  member  of  a  family  where  refine 
ment  and  gentility  were  innate.  Rutherford  noticed,  more 
over,  that  the  cottage  was  spacious  and  elegantly  furnished ; 
the  barns  near  at  hand  tasteful  and  commodious,  and  the 
lands  pertaining  to  the  estate  extensive  and  highly  cultivated. 

When  the  party  were  in  readiness,  the  lunatic  was  un 
fastened  from  the  ring  in  the  wall ;  but  the  chain,  as  a 
precaution,  remained  upon  her.  The  lawyer  took  one  end 
of  the  chain  in  his  hand  and  offered  his  arm  to  the  prisoner. 
She  accepted  the  offer  quietly  when  she  saw  that  her 
dfi  lighter  was  to  accompany  her.  Mrs.  Granville  whispered 
something  in  her  ear  which  appeared  to  be  a  satisfactory 


94  STOEMCLIFF. 

answer  to  her  inquiry  as  to  where  they  were  taking  her. 
Then  the  trio  walked  forth  into  the  cold,  starry  night,  and 
the  servant  moved  on  ahead,  lighting  their  way  with  his 
lantern.  Little  Zoe  had  promised  to  remain  alone  in  the 
house  for  a  short  time  when  informed  that  efforts  were  being 
made  to  conceal  her  unfortunate  grandmother  from  her 
enemies. 

.  The  silent  party  traversed  the  narrow  path  leading  near 
to  the  inclosure  of  "  The  Glen."  Arriving  at  the  point 
where  the  shadow  of  the  trees  shut  out  the  view  of  the 
stars,  they  paused  until  Nora  advanced  into  the  darkness 
which  enveloped  the  high  paling  of  the  park,  and,  aided  by 
the  servant's  lantern,  found  a  gate  which  had  apparently 
long  been  disused.  The  grass  grew  long  and  heavy  against 
it,  and  when  Nora  had  unlocked  the  rusty  lock  with  a  key 
which  belonged  to  the  "The  Glen"  property,  it  required  the 
strong  arms  of  the  negro  to  force  it  open  far  enough  for  the 
party  to  pass  through.  Leaving  the  gate  open  for  their 
return,  they  all  moved  on  into  the  gloomy  depths  of  the 
wood. 

It  required  considerable  effort  to  force  their  way  through 
the  undergrowth  which  had  accumulated  from  long  disuse 
of  that  portion  of  the  park.  The  servant,  however,  advanced 
with  his  brawny  figure,  bending  or  breaking  the  twigs  in 
his  way,  and  holding  the  infant  trees  aside  until  all  had 
passed.  He  appeared  familiar  with  the  intricacies  of  the 
wood,  and  informed  the  party  that  they  would  soon  reach 
the  more  open  portion  of  the  park,  at  a  point  near  the  rear 
of  the  Baltimore  mansion.  His  prediction  was  soon  verified, 
and  they  emerged  into  the  open  park,  where  the  stars  could 
again  be  distinguished  glistening  through  the  branches  of 
the  great  oaks  and  maples.  They  now  advanced  rapidly 
under  the  trees,  and  soon  reached  the  open  lawns  and 
gardens  of  the  estate.  Nora  produced  another  key  from 
her  pocket,  and  directly  they  were  admitted  to  the  rear  of 
the  mansion,  and  conducted  to  the  old  nurse's  room,  which 


STORMCLIFF.  95 

she  was  to  occupy  during  the  improvements  and  repairs  of 
the  property.  Lighting  her  lamp  for  the  accommodation  of 
her  guests,  she  left  them  seated  in  her  private  apartment, 
and  summoning  the  negro  with  his  lantern,  she  led  the  way 
through  the  deserted  halls  to  prepare  a  secure  retreat  and 
prison  for  the  lunatic.  As  she  passed  by  the  massive  door 
which  guarded  the  sideboards  and  silver-plate  of  the  Balti 
more  family,  she  said  to  her  attendant : 

"Mrs.  Granville's  mother  nearly  frightened  me  to  death 
one  night  by  stealing  into  this  house  while  I  was  examining 
the  silver-plate,  and  dashing  that  door  in  upon  me,  and 
putting  out  my  light.  We  both  mistook  each  other  for 
burglars.  She  nearly  throttled  me  before  I  could  tell  her 
in  the  darkness  who  I  was." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  lawyer  sat  alone  in  his  office  busily  engaged  in  writing. 
The  lamplight  illumined  his  calm,  thoughtful  countenance  as 
he  bent  over  his  manuscript,  and  the  occasional  glances  he 
gave  at  the  law-book  lying  open  before  him,  indicated  that 
he  had  succeeded  in  finding  a  client,  and  was  hunting  up  the 
legal  authorities  to  sustain  him  in  the  approaching  trial  of 
his  suit.  The  dancing  firelight  from  his  hearth  rendered  the 
apartment  cheerful  in  the  extreme,  as  it  brought  out  in 
strong  relief  the  present  of  the  new  law-books,  arranged 
upon  a  little  shelf,  or  flooded  with  fluctuating  rays  the  face 
of  the  ancient  clock  which  stood  solemn  guard  over  the 
night  labors  of  the  ambitious  and  lonely  outcast. 

Presently  the  venerable  sentinel  sounded  his  deep,  musical 
warning  of  the  flight  of  time.  Eight  solemn  strokes  suc 
ceeded  the  preparatory  whirring  in  the  clock,  and  then  all 
was  still  again,  except  the  everlasting  tick — tick — tick,  and 
the  rattle  of  the  lawyer's  hurrying  pen.  He  glanced  up  for 


96  STOKMCLIFF. 

an  instant  at  the  face  of  his  friend,  and  finding  the  hour  still 
early,  resumed  his  labors.  Soon  a  more  unusual  interruption 
attracted  his  attention.  Heavy  knocks  sounded  upon  his 
door,  and  he  heard  tramping  of  feet  outside.  In  response  to 
his  loud  "  come  in,"  the  door  opened,  and  two  men  entered 
the  office.  He  recognised  one  as  his  supporter  and  newly- 
found  friend,  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron.  He  arose,  and 
extending  his  hand  cordially  to  him,  bade  him  welcome  and 
handed  him  a  chair.  The  other  visitor,  whom  he  recognised 
and  provided  with  a  seat  near  the  fire,  demands  especial 
description,  physical  and  mental. 

Nicholas  Traver  was  a  born  gentleman.  The  term  in  this 
connection  refers  to  birth  from  affluent,  refined,  and  educated 
parents,  to  elegance  of  form  and  manners,  and  to  an  in 
stinctive  antipathy  to  everything  vulgar,  rude,  or  harsh  in 
man  or  woman,  in  matter  or  in  mind.  His  tastes  were 
naturally  pure  and  elevated.  He  was  an  admirable  dramatic, 
poetical,  and  musical  critic.  His  pen  was  powerful,  and  his 
oratory  forcible  and  persuasive.  He  had  exhibited  no  incon 
siderable  talent  as  a  member  of  the  Legislature  of  his  native 
State.  He  was  an  excellent  horticulturist,  and  a  successful 
farmer.  He  was  decided  in  his  political  views,  but  a  cour 
teous  adversary,  and  a  constant,  fearless  friend.  He  was 
susceptible  to  good  influences,  and  continued  intercourse 
with  the  sincere  and  the  upright  would  generally  result  in 
perceptible  benefit  to  his  moral  character.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  was  easily  led  into  evil  by  pernicious  associations  ; 
with  a  most  wonderful  power  and  will  suddenly  to  recover 
his  moral  balance,  and  re-assert  his  innate  integrity  and 
purity  of  character.  He  belonged  to  that  numerous  class  of 
men  of  intellect,  who  generally  exhibit  in  early  life  alternate 
spasms  or  intervals  of  improper  and  commendable  conduct, 
but  who,  upon  attaining  maturity  and  experience,  become 
valuable  members  of  society  and  the  state. 

In  personal  appearance,  he  was  a  mature  Adonis.  Nearly 
every  woman  of  refinement  and  heart,  who  was  brought  iu 


STORMCLIFF.  97 

contact  with  him  long  enough  to  recognise  his  personal  and 
mental  accomplishments,  was  certain  to  be  fascinated.  He 
combined  in  his  person  as  well  as  in  his  intellect  that  rare  union, 
power  and  gentleness.  He  was  tall,  and  erect,  and  graceful. 
His  tread  was  firm  and  prince-like,  and  his  muscular  develop 
ment  in  strict  keeping  with  his  princely  movements  and 
address.  His  skin  was  as  pure  and  white  as  a  blonde  girl's, 
and  his  hands  and  feet  aristocratically  small.  In  conversation, 
chaste  and  elegant  scholarship  was  manifest  both  in  state 
ment  of  fact  and  purity  of  language.  In  addressing  a  lady, 
he  usually  inclined  his  head  towards  her,  respectfully  and 
gallantly.  His  eyes  were  large,  rich,  dark  blue,  like  deep 
wells  in  repose,  but  full  of  fire  and  versatility  under  excite 
ment  or  appreciation.  They  beamed  on  woman's  beauty  in 
magnetic  power  and  tenderness  ;  they  looked  into  the  face  of 
man  fearlessly,  candidly.  Pleasure  .or  dissatisfaction  was  as 
apparent  in  those  eyes  as  daylight.  He  was  brilliant  as  a 
sunbeam,  or  sullen  and  lowering  as  the  approaching  storm- 
cloud.  Forty-odd  winters  had  turned  his  poetical  curling 
hair  of  brown  into  a  dark  grey.  The  heavy  grey  mustache, 
the  only  hair  allowed  to  grow  on  his  smooth  oval  face, 
scarcely  hid  from  view  his  small  feminine  mouth,  whose 
smile  was  almost  angelic. 

His  dress  was  always  carefully  studied,  of  quiet  colors, 
and  devoid  of  all  jewelry. 

On  horseback  he  looked  the  Emperor.  Firmly  seated  and 
erect,  he  bounded  over  the  country,  well  mounted  and  with 
the  conscious  hauteur  of  the  Ca3sars.  Every  steed  of  his 
stables  bore  him  along  as  if  proud  of  the  rider's  majesty. 
But  for  six  years  he  would  not  ride  in  the  summer  months ; 
and  the  community,  with  all  their  ingenuity  and  perseverance, 
had  failed  to  discover  why.  His  reticence  and  retirement 
were  unaccountable,  and  the  public  curiosity  had  finally 
settled  down  into  the  belief  that  his  singular  isolation  was 
due  to  eccentricity  ;  when  suddenly  that  trumpet  blast  of 
terror,  "  murder,"  rang  through  the  highlands  and  along  the 

6 


98  STORMCLIFF. 

banks  of  the  Hudson,  and  awoke  the  Traver  family  once 
more  into  notoriety.  Public  sympathy  and  horror  were 
aroused  over  the  corpse  of  his  murdered  crippled  boy,  and  all 
seemed  willing  to  aid  in  tracking  the  murderer. 

At  the  thoughtful  suggestion  of  the  clergyman,  who 
eagerly  availed  himself  of  the  opportunity  to  afford  Ruther 
ford  a  chance  to  win  fame  in  his  profession,  Nicholas  Traver, 
the  mysterious  and  elegant  gentleman,  had  come  to  consult 
the  outcast  on  the  proper  means  to  be  employed  to  track 
the  assassin  and  secure  his  conviction  by  a  legal  tribunal. 

"  I  have  come  to  you,  Mr.  Rutherford,"  he  said,  with  a 
slight  tremor  in  his  voice,  "  upon  the  recommendation  of  this 
reverend  gentleman.  He  speaks  highly  of  your  abilities  as 
an  orator,  and  pronounces  your  analytical  powers  remarkable 
for  a  person  of  your  years.  This  latter  gift  decides  me  in 
my  purpose  of  securing  your  services  to  aid  in  sifting  and 
arranging  the  evidence  bearing  upon  the  murder  of  my  son. 
The  District-Attorney  is  overwhelmed  with  business,  and 
desires  me  to  select  some  competent  lawyer  to  assist  him 
in  the  conduct  of  this  murder  trial.  If  you,  sir,  are  willing 
to  assume  the  responsibility  of  this  matter,  and  devote  your 
energies  to  secure  the  ends  of  justice,  I  will  compensate  you 
handsomely  for  your  services.  I  have  prepared  an  abstract 
of  the  evidence  which  has  either  fallen  in  my  way  or  been 
volunteered,  together  with  the  names  and  places  of  residence 
of  material  witnesses  with  whom  it  will  be  .necessary  for  you 
to  consult.  Here  it  is.  You  can  examine  it  at  your  leisure, 
and  inform  me  by  note  whether  or  not  you  are  willing  to 
undertake  the  conduct  of  the  matter.  I  should  imagine  that, 
as  you  are  just  entering  upon  the  practice  of  your  profession, 
you  would  find  the  notoriety  of  this  trial  eminently  bene 
ficial  to  your  future  career." 

"  I  feel  highly  honored,  Mr.  Traver,"  replied  the  lawyer, 
"  by  your  selection  of  me  for  this  responsible  trust,  as  well 
as  complimented  by  this  reverend  friend's  estimate  of  my 
abilities.  I  deem  it  prudent  at  the  opening  of  my  career  to 


STORMCLIFF.  99 

announce  that  I  will  never  espouse  any  legal  cause  which 
does  not  bear  upon  its  face  marked  evidence  of  right  and  jus 
tice. 

"  I  will  examine  these  papers,  if  you  see  fit  to  leave  them, 
provided  the  understanding  is  between  us  that  I  shall  be  at 
perfect  liberty,  after  their  perusal,  either  to  be  employed 
against  the  party  accused  in  this  abstract,  or,  if  I  elect  other 
wise,  to  become  the  counsel  of  the  accused  party.  Shall 
this  be  the  understanding  ?" 

The  gentleman  addressed,  whose  serious  handsome  face 
had  been  carefully  studying  the  physiognomy  of  the  young 
lawyer  during  the  delivery  of  this  answer,  replied  courteously 
to  this  guarded  acceptance  of  his  abstract. 

"  It  argues  well  for  the  uprightness  of  your  legal  career 
in  the  future,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  are  thus  careful  in  com 
mitting  your  talents  to  the  defence  or  prosecution  of  any 
cause.  The  evident  honesty  of  your  reserve  might  be  imi 
tated  by  many  of  your  able  profession  with  benefit  to  them 
selves  and  the  world.  Your  manner  strengthens  my  confi 
dence,  and  confirms  Mr.  Heron's  report  of  your  character. 
I  will  leave  the  papers  with  you,  subject  to  your  conditions, 
fully  assured  that  so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  justice  will 
receive  its  proper  respect.  I  shall  await  your  answer  with 
all  the  anxiety  of  an  outraged  father's  heart.  Will  you  per 
mit  me,  before  leaving,  to  return  you  grateful  acknowledg 
ments  of  the  kindness  you  extended  to  me  in  aiding  this 
reverend  gentleman  at  my  house  on  that  dreadful  occasion, 
in  preparing  my  child  for  his  grave  ?" 

It  would  be  impossible  to  express  the  gentleness  and 
warmth  and  dignity  with  which  these  words  were  pronounced, 
as  Mr.  Traver  fixed  his  eyes  on  the  lawyer's  countenance. 
The  listener  was  charmed,  and  accepted  cordially  the  hand 
which  was  outstretched  to  him,  preparatory  to  Mr.  Traver 
leaving  the  office.  The  music  of  that  voice  lingered  when 
the  visitors  had  left ;  and  when  Rutherford  turned  again  to 
his  table  to  resume  his  study,  he  said  aloud,  "  That  is  a 


100  STORMCLIFF. 

charming,   estimable  gentleman;  I  would  enjoy  being  his 
friend,  surely." 

Resuming  the  consideration  of  the  legal  suit  upon  which  he 
had  been  engaged  when  interrupted,  he  devoted  himself  to 
it  for  hours.  It  was  past  midnight  when  he  had  completed 
his  task  and  laid  the  papers  carefully  away.  He  sat  silently 
then,  looking  into  his  fire,  which  had  become  only  a  mass  of 
glowing  coals.  He  was  studying  in  his  mind  what  strange 
reports  had  formerly  been  circulated  regarding  the  Traver 
family.  No  doubt  much  of  the  terror  which  was  associated 
with  that  name  arose  from  vulgar  exaggeration.  But  of  one 
fact  he  was  personally  cognizant.  He  had  himself  witnessed 
more  terrible  caprices  of  the  gale  on  that  secluded  estate 
than  elsewhere  during  his  life.  At  night  the  wind  had  cer 
tainly  appeared  to  be  gifted  with  human  voices  as  he  chanced 
to  pass  by  that  property.  Hark !  was  not  the  wind  at  that 
moment  howling  around  the  corner  of  his  office,  filled  with 
warning  voices  ?  The  gale  certainly  seemed  to  pronounce 
the  words  "  Beware — beware."  He  smiled  as  he  shook  off 
the  momentary  superstition,  and  arising  from  his  chair, 
flung  a  stick  of  wood  on  to  his  blazing  coals.  The  packet 
left  by  Mr.  Traver  chanced  at  that  moment  to  catch  his  eye. 
Thinking  he  would  only  break  the  seal  and  hastily  glance 
at  the  nature  of  the  papers  or  abstracts,  reserving  a  critical 
examination  of  them  for  the  morrow,  he  drew  his  chair  again 
to  the  table  and  took  up  the  packet.  The  seal  pressed 
into  the  red  wax  was  no  doubt  that  of  the  Traver  family. 
The  memorandum  in  pencil  upon  the  outside  of  the  packet 
was  very  likely  in  the  handwriting  of  Nicholas  Traver  him 
self.  He  broke  the  seal  and  spread  open  the  papers  before 
him.  The  name  of  the  accused  startled  him.  "  Impossible," 
broke  from  his  lips.  He  ran  his  eye  eagerly  over  the  manu 
script  ;  his  curiosity  was  fully  aroused.  He.  drew  his  lamp 
closer  to  him  and  read  carefully  the  document.  Finally  he 
raised  his  eyes  thoughtfully  and  said  aloud  :  "How  many 
sons  has  that  man  ?"  With  pertinent  and  solemn  distinct- 


STOBilCLIFP.  101 

ness  the  attentive  clock  struck  one.  The  old  timepiece 
startled  him.  "  You  are  correct,  old  friend,  he  has  only  one  ; 
but  that  one  never  murdered  Walter  Traver.  I'd  most  be 
willing  to  swear  it."  ' 

He  commenced  the  study  of  the  fearful  charges  once 
more,  sometimes  glancing  back  over  parts  he  had  read,  and 
comparing  carefully.  At  length  a  bright  gleam  came  to  his 
eyes,  and  he  exclaimed  :  "  Here  is  a  flaw,  surely.  He  could 
not  be  in  two  places  at  once.  Let  me  see — how  many  hours' 
discrepancy  are  there  in  his  favor  ?" 

The  accurate  and  solemn  response  was  counted  by  the 
clock :  "  Two." 

"  Eight,  again,"  said  the  lawyer  with  a  smile  and  a  glance 
up  at  the  centenarian  monitor.  "  That  man  is  innocent,  I'll 
wager  my  old  clock." 

After  a  further  and  more  careful  scrutiny  of  the  papers, 
he  flung  them  aside  with  an  exclamation  of  delight :  "  I 
glory  in  discovering  innocence.  To  ascertain  guilt  affords 
no  satisfaction  to  me.  I  wish  from  the  bottom  of  my  soul 
that  everybody  was  innocent.  I  have  lost  a  wealthy  and 
powerful  client,  to  be  sure  ;  but  never  mind,  I'll  have  a 
chance  yet.  Let  me  see.  Some  of  the  bar  will  take  charge 
of  that  case  for  Mr.  Traver,  as  sure  as  fate.  Well,  just  let 
them  try  it.  I'll  take  up  for  Nevil  Waters  and  bring  him 
out  of  court  as  innocent  and  white  as  a  snow-drift.  Hurrah 
for  innocence,  any  way  !" 

He  studied  silently  in  his  mind  for  a  time,  gazing  again 
into  vacancy.  Then  he  said  slowly :  "  How  many  mem 
bers  of  the  bar  in  this  town  would  be  hireling  enough  to 
attempt  the  conviction  of  that  man  ?  I'll  count  them  on  my 
fingers." 

The  clock  anticipated  the  enumeration.  "  Three,"  it 
struck  with  distinct,  heavy  bell-notes. 

"  Upon  my  soul !"  exclaimed  the  amused  attorney,  "  you 
are  growing  accurate  in  your  old  age.  I  was  on  the  point 
of  saying  three  myself.  Well  done  for  you,  old  fellow ; 


102  STORMCLIFF. 

you've  counted  for  me  and  given  me  a  broad  hint  to  clear 
off  to  bed.  Good-night  to  you." 

He  lockedhis  door,  and  extinguishing  his  lamp,  flung  himself 
upon  his  bed,  too  thoroughly  drowsy  and  exhausted  to  undress. 

When  he  awoke  from  his  profound  slumber,  the  sunlight 
was  flooding  the  bare  floor  of  his  office.  Upon  looking  at 
the  clock,  he  was  surprised  to  see  that  it  was  near  the  hour 
of  eleven.  Springing  suddenly  to  the  floor,  he  hastened  to 
kindle  a  fire  upon  his  hearth,  for  the  day  was  bitterly  cold, 
and  the  frost-king  had  been  whitening  the  glass  of  his  win 
dows.  Then  he  plunged  his  face  into  the  chill  water  of  his 
basin,  and  being  revived  by  the  glow  which  the  rough  towel 
brought  to  his  skin,  he  sat  down  at  his  table  and  penned 
these  lines : 

"  MR.  NICHOLAS  TRAVEE  : 

"DEAR  SIR, — I  have  exammea  the  documents  you  en 
trusted  to  me  last  night.  After  a  careful  and  critical  peru 
sal  of  them,  I  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion  that  the  party 
accused  therein  could  not  have  been  connected  in  any  man 
ner  with  the  sad  occurrence ;  and  I  am  persuaded  that  you 
would  yourself,  upon  further  examination,  arrive  at  the  same 
conclusion.  It  is  unnecessary  for  me  to  remind  you  that  the 
young  man  was  loved  and  trusted  by  your  son  above  every 
other  acquaintance,  that  his  character  stands  high  in  the 
estimation  of  the  public  generally,  and  that  it  will  be  difficult 
to  discover  a  MOTIVE  for  so  dreadful  a  crime  in  his  case.  I 
regret  that  I  cannot  serve  you  professionally.  Your  advan 
ces  to  a  tyro  in  the  law  like  me,  have  been  flattering,  and 
I  sincerely  thank  you.  If  any  occasion  should  arise  when  I 
can  assist  you,  without  a  violation  of  the  law  of  my  con 
science,  I  should  be  extremely  happy  to  do  so.  But  in  this 
instance  I  cannot,  because  I  firmly  believe  this  young  man 
to  be  innocent. 

"  I  am,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  CLARENCE  RUTHERFORD." 


STORMCLIKF.  103 

Carefully  folding  this  note,  and  addressing  it  to  Mr.  Tra- 
ver  in  a  distinct  hand,  he  inclosed  it  in  the  abstract  of  the 
evidence ;  and,  taking  his  hat,  went  out  into  the  street  to 
find  a  messenger  to  carry  back  the  packet  to  the  owner. 
He  hailed  a  boy  of  his  acquaintance  who  was  passing  near, 
and  entrusted  the  papers  to  him  for  delivery.  Then  he 
turned  back  in  the  direction  of  his  office  with  a  view  to  the 
preparation  of  his  morning  meal.  Before  reaching  the  door, 
he  heard  the  rattle  of  wheels  coming  rapidly  down  the  street, 
and,  turning,  beheld  Nora  Rudd  driving  towards  him.  Aa 
soon  as  she  recognised  him,  she  motioned  for  him  to  stop. 
As  she  reined  in  her  horse  before  him,  she  said,  in  an  excited 
manner : 

"  I  want  you  to  get  in  and  go  with  me.  N"evil  Waters 
has  been  arrested  for  the  murder  of  Walter  Traver.  He 
is  innocent,  and  I  know  it.  You  must  defend  him :  it  will 
surely  result  in  his  favor ;  and  your  name  will  appear  favor 
ably  before  the  public.  I  can  put  you  in  possession  of  facts 
which  will  clear  him,  without  fail.  The  matter  is  somewhat 
involved,  but  he  is  surely  innocent." 

As  Rutherford  stepped  into  the  vehicle  beside  her,  she 
added:  "They  were  not  after  the  lunatic  that  night,  as  we 
imagined,  but  were  in  pursuit  of  Nevil  Waters.  He  carried 
one  of  the  lanterns  which  appeared  to  be  chasing  you.  His 
pursuer  was  following  you  by  mistake.  The  man  who 
crossed  the  bridge  behind  us  was  Nevil  Waters  himself. 
The  officer  who  drove  up  in  front  of  Rutger's  tavern  wag 
after  him,  and  followed  you  by  mistake.  Your  capture  and 
blindfolding  of  the  officer  puzzles  every  one  completely.  He 
is  very  powerful,  and  maintains  that  the  stranger  in  disguise 
who  overpowered  him,  could  not  have  been  IsTevil  Waters, 
who  is  very  slight  and  weak.  The  conclusion  is,  that  Waters 
had  an  accomplice.  The  poor  young  man  has  been  arrested 
f  the  murder.  He  was  out  that  night,  driving  furiously 
jn  his  own  business.  He  did  pass  the  spot  on  which  the 
murder  was  committed;  but  it  was  long  before  the  deed 


304  STORMCLIFF. 

was  done.  I  will  testify  to  that  fact  myself,  for  I  saw 
him." 

"  Yes,"  replied  her  companion,  "  I  am  aware  of  that ; 
others  will  testify  also  to  the  fact  of  his  being  at  another 
place  at  the  time  when  the  murder  must  have  been  commit 
ted.  There  is  little  question  that  the  crime  must  have 
occurred  just  before  sunset.  At  that  hour  Waters  was  far 
away,  as  some  will  testify." 

"How  did  you  ascertain  all  this?"  asked  Nora,  in  sur 
prise. 

"From  an  examination  of  the  very  papers  which  were 
brought  to  me  by  the  man  who  desired  to  employ  me  against 
Nevil  Waters." 

"  And  that  man  was " 

"  Nicholas  Traver,"  replied  the  lawyer.  "  I  have  just  sent 
him  a  refusal  to  be  employed  against  that  young  man.  But 
where  are  you  taking  me  ?" 

"  To  the  house  of  the  elder  Waters,"  she  replied,  giving 
her  horse  a  sharp  cut  with  the  whip.  •  "I  am  determined  that 
he  shall  employ  you  to  defend  his  son.  He  is  my  clergyman ; 
and  when  I  offer  him  my  evidence  in  his  child's  favor,  I  am 
determined  that  he  shall  give  you  an  opportunity  to  win 
renown." 

Rutherford's  delicacy  caused  him  to  shrink  from  any  act 
which  would  look  like  thrusting  himself  upon  Mr.  Waters' 
attention  in  a  professional  capacity.  He  resolutely  refused 
to  enter  the  house  upon  such  an  errand. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Nora,  with  evident  disappointment  in 
her  tones.  "  You  will  not  refuse  to  wait  outside,  and  hold 
my  horse,  until  I  give  the  old  gentleman  a  word  of  cheer, 
by  informing  him  that  I  will  testify  in  his  son's  favor,  will 
you?" 

"  No,  indeed,"  said  Rutherford  ;  "  drive  on  as  fast  as  you 
like — for  I  have  been  up  all  night,  and  have  had  no  breakfast." 

In  a  few  minutes  more  the  horse  paused  before  the  gate 
of  a  white  frame  dwelling,  surrounded  by  leafless  cherry-trees. 


STORMCLIFF.  105 

On  the  doorstep  a  servant-maid  was  standing  with,  her 
hands  to  her  face,  weeping  over  the  misfortune  which  had 
befallen  her  young  master.  He  had  been  thrown  into  prison. 

Nora  left  her  horse  in  charge  of  the  lawyer,  and  walked 
slowly  up  to  the  house,  leaning  upon  her  steel-pointed  staff. 
A  few  words  addressed  to  the  servant  appeared  to  quiet  her, 
and  she  conducted  the  old  nurse  into  the  house.  Ten  minutes 
could  scarcely  have  elapsed,  when  the  front  door  opened 
again,  and  a  venerable  old  gentleman,  with  long  white  hair 
brushed  behind  his  ears  and  streaming  down  his  back,  made 
his  appearance  and  beckoned  to  Rutherford  to  come  in.  The 
silent  summons  was  obeyed,  and  when  the  aged  clergyman 
had  taken  the  lawyer  cordially  by  the  hand,  and  conducted 
him  to  a  seat  beside  Nora  in  the  parlor,  he  looked  earnestly 
into  his  face,  and  said  : 

"  And  so  the  Lord,  my  Master,  put  courage  into  your  heart, 
young  man,  to  withstand  the  allurements  of  power  and 
wealth,  and  strengthened  you  to  take  a  firm  stand  in  behalf 
of  my  poor  boy.  It  was  a  noble,  honest  heart  you  had,  when 
you  were  so  poor,  and  so  dependent,  and  yet  could  refuse  an 
opportunity  to  win  so  much  of  that  man's  gold.  The  Lord 
will  reward  you,  young  man ;  the  Lord  will  reward  you." 

He  repeated  these  words  with  a  voice  husky  with  emotion. 
Then  clearing  his  throat,  he  continued  in  a  firmer  tone : 

"  Clarence,  I  remember  you  when  you  were  a  tottering 
child  ;  I  said  then  that  your  forehead  bore  a  special  mark  of 
intellect  from  God.  I  have  often  thought  of  you  since  the 
Lord,  in  His  inscrutable  wisdom,  has  seen  fit  to  visit  you  with 
clouds  and  storms  of  trouble.  Keep  a  stout  heart,  young 
man.  You  are  not  utterly  forsaken.  Earnest  souls  in  this 
community  think  much  concerning  your  welfare.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  thrilling  hour  when  you  saved  little  Mag 
gie  from  a  watery  grave.  It  was  nobly  done.  But  this  kind 
ness  to  my  boy  is  nobler  still — for  now  you  need  money ; 
then  you  did  not.  Now,  Clarence,  I  have  only  a  small  salary 

allowed  me  to  support  my  family,  but  I  am  willing  to  give  you 

5* 


106  STORMCLIFF. 

one-fourth  part  of  it  if  you  will  try  to  clear  my  poor  boy's 
reputation  and  save  his  life.  He  is  innocent,  God  knows, 
but  I  am  afraid  of  these  courts  in  these  modern,  godless 
days.  There  is  so  much  corruption — so  much  chicanery — so 
much  buying  and  selling  of  human  life  and  liberty !  What 
say  you,  Clarence?  Will  you  be  my  lawyer;  my  honest 
Christian  lawyer,  and  bring  me  out  of  this  furnace  of  afflic 
tion  ?  There  are  great  legal  names  in  this  county,  but  I 
want  an  honest  man  who  is  trained  to  the  law ;  and  I  want  to 
lend  you  a  helping  hand,  too." 

The  old  veteran  soldier  of  the  Lord,  with  his  silver  locks 
straying  over  his  shoulders,  leaned  forward  in  his  earnest 
trembling  way  as  he  spoke ;  and  then,  as  his  aged  voice  ceased, 
gave  Rutherford  the  keen  searching  look  peculiar  to  old  age 
and  experience. 

The  lawyer  responded  to  his  inquiry  by  assuring  him  that 
every  nerve  should  be  strained  to  defend  the  accused.  He 
spoke  lightly,  however,  of  the  danger  attending  the  suit,  and 
pronounced  a  decided  opinion  that  no  court  would  ever  con 
demn  a  man  upon  such  an  evident  case  of  alibi. 

The  anxious  old  father  seemed  relieved  by  his  assuring 
tones,  and  when  Nora  and  the  lawyer  rose  to  leave,  he  said : 
"  May  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  bless  you, 
young  man,  and  speedily  bring  you  out  of  all  reproach  from 
cruel  tongues,  by  showing  to  the  world  that  you  are  well 
born  of  pious  and  respectable  parents.  God  bless  you — good 
bye." 

The  solemn  blessing  of  an  old  man  rings  along  the  aisles 
of  memory  like  a  golden  belL 


CHAPTER  X. 

AH  !  was  that  really  a  tear  stealing  unnoticed   down  that 
self-reliant  face?      Would  she  at  last  acknowledge  herself 


STORMCLIFF.  107 

touched  at  the  heart's  fountain  Ivy  that  man?  Was  preju 
dice,  was  society  off  its  guard  ?  Was  the  citadel  of  custom 
shaken  to  its  very  foundation  as  the  storm  of  glorious,  omni 
potent,  triumphant  eloquence  swept  over  the  hushed  crowd 
of  beating  hearts,  hurling  pride  and  rank  and  selfishness  to 
the  level  of  our  common  humanity  ?  Marie  Heron  brushed 
away  the  mist  of  her  own  tears  to  look  at  her.  Yes ;  even 
she,  Louise  Stanford,  was  crying.  The  presiding  magistrate 
himself  dashed  his  hand  nervously  across  his  eyes  and  tried  to 
resume  his  look  of  dignified  attention.  But  it  was  in  vain  ; 
his  lips  trembled  and  his  eyes  filled  again,  as  he  leaned  un 
consciously  forward  to  catch  the  cadences  of  the  soul-music. 
And  away  down  the  court-room  there,  just  at  the  end  of  the 
line  of  jurymen,  a  silver-haired  old  man  is  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  his  daughter,  and  gazing  at  the  speaker  with  such 
rapt,  eager  tenderness,  that  one  might  fancy  he  saw  God's 
angel  there  pleading  for  the  life  of  his  boy.  But  notice  par 
ticularly  the  proud,  thrilled,  beaming  countenance  of  the  old 
witness  with  the  raven  hair  and  the  steel-pointed  staff,  whose 
evidence  had  apparently  affected  the  jury  so  powerfully  a 
short  time  before.  The  cross-examination  had  utterly  failed 
to  shake  the  clearness  and  the  pertinency  of  her  testimony  con 
cerning  the  matter  of  the  alibi.  She  knew  clearly,  as  to  time 
and  place  what  she  did  know ;  and  the  District- Attorney,  aided 
by  his  crafty  assistant,  had  retired  foiled  from  their  assault 
upon  her  with  a  view  to  impeach  her  evidence.  Now  she- 
sat  leaning  upon  her  staff,  triumphantly  awaiting  the  result. 

But  the  central  figure,  the  man  with  the  simple  dress  of 
iron  grey,  upon  whose  utterances  that  congregated  throng 
of  intellect  and  beauty  breathless  hung — Oh  !  how  majesti 
cally  he  asserts  his  manhood — his  innate,  wonderful  gift  of 
leading  souls  in  the  bright  path  of  truth  and  justice  !  With 
quick  and  searching  analysis  he  had  explored  the  evidence 
clustering  about  the  tragedy — winnowed  the  chaff  away,  and 
held  forth  the  golden  grain  apparent  to  the  eyes  of  all.  The 
barriers  of  the  opposing  counsel  melted  away  at  his  genius- 


108  STORMCLIFF. 

touch,  and  their  accurate  witnesses  were  exhibited  as  sincere 
and  truthful,  but  of  no  account  in  the  face  of  the  palpable 
alibi.  Then  he  passed  from  the  evidence  to  the  contempla 
tion  of  the  probable,  and  demolished  the  feebly  sustained 
argument  of  a  motive  for  the  murder.  Then,  from  the  eyrie 
height  of  his  impassioned  eloquence,  he  swooped  down  into 
the  depths  of  all  hearts,  and  spoke  to  the  jurymen  as  men. 
He  grasped  the  delicate  and  tender  fibres  of  the  heart,  and 
each  one  felt  that  his  own  beautiful  boy  was  on  trial  for  his 
life.  Here  was  he  regal  master,  and  his  sceptre  opened  the 
flood-gates  of  the  soul.  Feeble  and  fluctuating  doubts  and 
suspicions  vanished.  Truth  glanced  into  every  soul,  and  his 
client  was  already  cleared. 

The  peerless  and  the  fatherless  dropped  quietly  into  his 
seat,  and  eyes  glistened  with  tears  on  every  side,  and  mur 
murs  of  applause  ran  round.  The  jury,  without  leaving 
their  seats,  pronounced  the  prisoner  innocent  of  the  charge. 
The  people  gathered  about  the  young  counsel  in  hearty 
congratulation,  and  the  old  clergyman  wept  upon  his  shoul 
der,  and  the  daughter  kissed  his  hand.  Many  who  had 
avoided  him  after  his  fall,  now  came  forward  and  shook  him 
by  the  hand.  But  the  mass  of  refined  society  held  back,  and 
the  Christians  of  the  churches  left  the  Christians  of  God  alone 
to  whisper  consolation  to  his  lonely,  refined  heart. 

The  power  of  opinion  in  society  and  the  churches  is  omni 
potent,  and  yet  when  closely  investigated  by  the  eye  of  can 
dor,  it  is  found  to  originate  in  the  prejudices  or  the  earnest 
convictions  of  the  strong  intellects  or  wills  of  the  few,  who, 
by  the  mere  force  of  assertion,  drag  others  into  the  whirlpool 
of  truth  or  error.  The  gift  of  originality  and  strong  will  is 
a  limited  gift.  Hence  the  few  influential  leaders  in  society 
or  religion  incur  fearful  responsibility  to  God  if  they  guide 
others  into  the  violation  of  the  sublime  charity  and  bro 
therhood  inculcated  by  the  Divine  Teacher  of  Galilee.  Hia 
teachings  were  not  congenial  to  the  proverbs  and  wise 
thrifty  maxims  which  accumulate  wealth  and  secure  power. 


STOKMCLIFF.  109 

He  hurled  orthodoxy  from  its  throne,  because  orthodoxy 
arrogated  to  itself  the  sole  right  to  wear  the  genuine  livery 
of  heaven,  while  devoid  of  the  lowliness  of  heart  and  univer 
sal  love  of  men,  without  which,  that  heaven  would  be  only 
an  assembly  of  proud,  aristocratic  formalists.  Churches 
gradually  assume  the  form  and  character  of  citadels  from 
which  crusades  are  organized  against  other  churches,  to  steal 
proselytes ;  or  from  which  periodical  forays  of  a  limited  and 
sectarian  character  are  made  upon  the  really  poor  and  suffer 
ing  with  the  like  purpose  of  proselytism.  This  was  never 
the  i-eligion  of  Christ.  The  Good  Shepherd's  attentions 
were  principally  directed  to  the  irregular,  wandering  sheep 
who  contrived  to  keep  out  of  the  regular  fold.  The  Shep 
herd  turned  his  back  upon  the  regulars  and  went  after  the 
heretic,  and  appeared  strongly  to  love  him  best.  The  fas 
ter  was  surrounded  by  the  abandoned  and  the  suffering,  who 
had  always  been  separate  from  the  orthodox  ;  and  the  asser 
tions  of  all  the  priestcraft  in  Christendom  can  never  make 
the  fact  obscure,  or  dim  its  celestial  brightness.  The  good 
God  loves  all ! 

How  much,  then,  was  Clarence  Rutherford  entitled  to  the 
society  and  assistance  of  his  peers,  since  his  own  personal 
acts  were  devoid  of  shame.  He  was  a  sinless  sufferer,  and 
yet  Christians  turned  their  backs  on  him.  They  .made  him 
suffer  reproach  for  others'  sins.  Thank  God,  the  Church  is 
not  infallible  which  turns  away  from  innocence,  and  makes 
it  drag  its  weary  life  alone  to  a  grave  of  despair.  The 
Eternal  may  visit  the  sins  of  the  fathers  upon  the  children, 
but  Christ  never  directed  His  followers  to  do  it. 

Such  were  the  convictions  of  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron,  as 
he  stood  at  the  door  of  the  court-house  waiting  for  the  out 
cast,  that  he  might  conduct  him  from  the  scene  of  his  legal 
triumph  to  a  seat  beside  his  own  daughter,  in  the  sleigh 
which  was  to  bear  him  to  a  sumptuous  repast  at  the  rectory. 

Curious  eyes  followed  the  trio,  as  the  sleigh  glided  down 
the  street,  and  earnest  hearts  secretly  blessed  the  clergyman 


110  6TORMCLIFF. 

who  so  fearlessly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  unfortunate. 
But  there  was  another  class  of  spectators  who  looked  coldly 
or  sneeringly  on  this  determined  and  independent  act  of 
Christian  charity ;  and  while  their  eyes  were  hardly  dry  of  the 
tears  which  earnest,  burning  oratory  had  elicited,  they  rein 
stated  their  old  prejudice  against  the  fatherless  upon  its 
pedestal.  Slaves  of  public  opinion,  they  were-  incapable 
of  appreciating  the  pure  charity  and  fearlessness  of  the 
man  of  God,  and  preferred  to  range  themselves  under  the 
pleasant  banner  of  the  popular.  Such  men  and  such  wo 
men — and  they  are  numbered  by  thousands  in  every  com 
munity — appear  to  forget  that  Christ  came  to  pfcice  His  fol 
lowers  in  antagonism  towards  the  world,  and  its  maxims  and 
prejudices.  The  probabilities  are,  that  a  popular  and  fiery  per 
secution  of  all  who  bear  the  Christian  name  would  find  such 
persons  hastening  to  deny  their  faith  for  the  sake  of  being 
on  the  safe  and  comfortable  side  of  power. 

But,  unmindful  of  the  malignant  and  the  worldly,  the 
sleigh,  with  its  congenial  occupants,  dashed  down  the  princi 
pal  thoroughfare  of  the  town  towards  a  place  of  shelter  from 
the  rapidly  increasing  snow-storm.  The  snow-flakes,  which 
had  trembled  slowly  and  at  long  intervals  downward  from 
the  sky,  now  were  replaced  by  thickly  falling  flakes  like  feath 
ers,  which  soon  covered  the  sleighing  party  with  mantles  of 
white.  Over  the  fences  and  the  trees  they  whirled  and 
tossed,  weaving  fantastic  shapes  among  the  network  of  the 
branches,  and  clinging  reluctantly  to  the  outlines  of  the  gate 
posts,  or  forming  on  their  tops  caps,  and  capitals,  and  enta 
blatures  of  white.  Every  dark  and  misshapen  object  which 
met  the  eye  was  soon  concealed  and  crowned  in  white,  and 
the  snow-king  proclaimed  his  power  in  concord  with  the  com 
ing  night.  The  shroud  of  the  snow-king  and  the  pall  of  night 
fell  together  over  the  departed  day. 

Rutherford  was  studying  the  rosy  beauty  of  Marie,  enve 
loped  in  her  furs,  when  the  darkness  fell.  She  appeared  un 
usually  animated  and  beautiful,  and  every  accent  that,  fell 


STORMCLIFP.  Ill 

from  her  lips  seemed  joyous  and  spirited.  She  had  emerged 
from  the  crowded  court-room  with  increased  confidence  in 
the  powers  and  truthfulness  of  the  young  orator,  and  with  a 
firmer  determination  to  stand  by  her  father  in  his  effort  to 
give  the  young  lawyer  position  in  society.  She  had  already 
won  over  a  female  friend  to  their  side  by  her  persuasive  elo 
quence,  and  that  friend  had  been  strengthened  in  his  favor 
by  an  accidental  interview  with  him  at  the  clergyman's 
house.  He  had  then  appeared  in  one  of  his  happiest  moods, 
brilliant  and  full  of  spirited  repartee.  Marie's  interest  in  him 
had  been  on  the  increase  ever  since  the  memorable  ride.  She 
had  resolved  to  befriend  him,  not  from  the  exalted  motive  of 
her  father,  but  on  account  of  the  satisfaction  his  society  af 
forded  her  sentimental  and  intellectual  nature.  No  young 
man  of  her  neighborhood,  or  indeed  of  her  acquaintance, 
could  compare  with  him  intellectually.  No  one  appeared  so 
perfectly  appreciative  of  her  poetic  and  delicate  tastes.  No 
one  understood  so  well  as  he  the  art  of  developing  the  beau 
tiful  ideas  which  sprang  from  her  brain,  by  comparing  and  con 
trasting  them  with  the  recorded  thoughts  of  the  eminent 
writers  of  all  ages.  If  other  and  more  tender  sympathies 
than  those  of  taste  and  intellect  found  lodgment  in  her  heart, 
she  was  as  yet  unconscious  of  them.  She  flew  to  his  society 
as  the  bird  flies  to  the  fountain.  At  the  clear  spring  of  his 
genius  she  quaffed  delicious  freshness  and  purity  of  thought ; 
then,  like  that  bird,  she  raised  her  lips  and  heart  to  Heaven 
and  trilled  forth  louder  and  clearer  notes  of  song. 

The  party  reached  the  rectory  just  at  the  moment  the  ser 
vant  was  lighting  the  lamps  for  the  evening.  The  dinner  was 
in  readiness  for  their  arrival,  and  they  found  Marie's  lady  friend 
already  arrived  and  comfortably  seated  before  the  coal  fire  in 
the  parlor.  To  Rutherford,  the  needy  occupant  of  the  small  and 
uncarpeted  office,  the  genteel  luxury  of  the  rectory  appeared 
like  a  paradise.  The  large  sofas,  the  padded'  easy-chairs,  the 
elegant  engravings  and  bronzes,  the  embroidery  screens,  and 
the  rich  patterns  of  the  carpet,  all  illumined  by  the  mellow 


112  STOEMCLIFF. 

light  of  the  astral  lamps,  suggested  ideas  of  comfort  which  he 
had  feared  were  passed  away  for  ever' for  him.  Then  the  easy 
and  informal  hospitality  of  the  clergyman,  as  he  presided  over 
the  sumptuous  entertainment  which  had  been  arranged  ex 
pressly  for  the  lawyer's  benefit,  brought  back  vividly  the  re 
collection  of  the  elegance  and  abundance  of  the  table  to 
which  he  had  been  accustomed  from  infancy.  He  did  not  re 
pine,  however,  at  his  fallen  condition.  The  impression  had 
become  strongly  rooted  in  his  mind  that  Heaven  had  inter 
posed  kindly  in  his  behalf,  and  that  a  splendid  destiny  await 
ed  him.  Oh !  who  shall  fathom  the  depth  and  the  power  of 
an  encouraging  word  spoken  at  the  right  time  ?  Who  shall 
trace  its  influence  upon  the  lives  of  those  who,  through  evil 
reproach  and  mountain  obstacles,  have  forced  their  weary 
way  and  marked  their  names  in  letters  of  gold  upon  the  arch 
of  history  and  humanity! 

At  length  the  dinner  was  over,  and  all  returned  again  to 
the  cheerful  glow  of  the  parlor  fire.  The  clergyman  took  up 
the  daily  paper,  and  was  soon  engrossed  in  the  affairs  of  the 
outer  world.  The  lawyer  seated  himself  beside  Miss  War 
ner,  the  other  guest,  on  the  sofa,  while  Marie  retired  for 
a  few  moments  to  look  after  the  affairs  of  the  house,  of  which 
she  was  sole  mistress.  She  was  detained  longer  than  she 
had  anticipated,  and  when  she  returned  at  length  to  the  room 
where  her  guests  were  seated,  she  witnessed  a  scene  which 
checked  the  exuberant  flow  of  her  feelings,  made  her  con 
scious  of  emotions  which  had  nestled  secretly  and  unknown 
in  her  heart,  and  developed  the  poetic,  lovely  girl  in  an  in- 
B'ant,  into  the  real  woman. 

The  clergyman  had  gone  out  and  left  his  guests  alone. 
Marie  entered  the  parlor  with  her  habitual  noiseless  tread, 
and  her  approach  was  unnoticed  by  the  two.  Rutherford's 
back  was  towards  the  door,  and  Miss  Warner  was  facing 
him,  and  eagerly  listening  to  his  remarks.  Her  eyes  were 
studying  his  features  with  the  rapt,  fascinated  gaze  of 
beauty,  held  captive  by  intellect.  Her  cheek  was  flushed  by 


STOKMCLIFF.  1 1  3 

excitement,  and,  occasionally,  her  eyelashes  drooped  in  the 
intensity  of  the  lawyer's  look.  A  sensation  of  pain  or  appre 
hension,  a  novel  feeling  of  chagrin  or  disappointment,  flashed 
across  Marie's  heart.  What  if  he  should. love  that  girl? 
What  if  her  charms  had  already  ensnared  him  ?  The  strange 
emotion  or  consciousness  grew  in  intensity  the  longer  she 
contemplated  the  absorption  of  the  two  in  each  other's 
society.  What  interest  could  she  have  in  his  heart  entangle 
ments  ?  Her  surprised  maiden  nature  withdrew  timidly  into 
itself.  Her  heart  fluttered  at  the  thought  that  she  could 
feel  otherwise  than  kindly  towards  Miss  Warner.  But  most 
assuredly,  'at  that  moment,  her  feelings  in  regard  to  her 
experienced  a  revulsion.  How  dared  that  girl  to  be  so 
absorbed  in  him,  holding  him  in  her  gaze  as  if  he  was 
unconscious  of  any  other  existence !  She  had  read  of  that 
singular  passion  which  allows  no  community  of  interest  in 
regard  to  its  idol — that  absorbing  emotion  which  veils  reason 
and  generosity — but  she  had  never  dreamed  that  a  person 
under  its  influence  could  become  bitter,  as  she  felt  that 
instant  towards  the  young  lady  who  sat  there  so  unconscious 
of  her  presence.  The  illusion,  which  had  fallen  as  a  mist 
over  her  young  existence,  that  she  regarded  Rutherford  as 
an  intellectual  and  cultivated  friend  only,  vanished  at  the 
sudden  touch  of  jealousy.  The  new  consciousness  came  like 
the  lightning,  and  was  instantly  followed  by  that  strange 
instinct  of  concealment  which  sends  the  wounded  bird  flut 
tering  into  the  thicket. 

She  advanced  rapidly  into  the  presence  of  the  two  occu 
pants  of  the  sofa,  and  said,  gaily : 

"Pardon  me  for  my  absence.  It  was  unavoidable.  Do 
you  enjoy  music,  Mr.  Rutherford?  If  so,  my  friend  Miss 
Warner  has  a  pleasure  in  reserve  for  you,  of  which  you 
little  dream."  , 

Miss  Warner,  of  course,  protested  that  she  was  only  mode 
rately  gifted  in  the  musical  line.  But  the  lawyer  pronounced 
his  decided  partiality  for  the  muse,  and  would  hear  of  no 


114  STORMCLIFF 

refusal  from  her.  After  the  customary  preliminaries  of  per 
suasion,  and  protestation,  and  reluctant  consent,  Marie  Heron 
brought  out  her  harp,  and  her  friend  proceeded,  with  culti 
vated  touch  and  rare  skill,  to  delight  her  listeners  by  elicit 
ing  its  Sweetest  melodies.  She  was  familiar  with  nearly 
everything  he  called  for,  and  song  after  song  was  warbled 
forth  by  her  powerful  voice.  He  expressed  his  appreciation 
of  her  musical  treat,  and,  in  response  to  her  request,  joined 
her  in  several  familiar  airs.  '  Turning,  at  length,  to  the  quiet 
mistress  of  the  dwelling,  who  was  reclining  in  dreamy  reve 
rie  against  the  back  of  a  large  rocking-chair,  studying  the 
fire  grottoes  of  the  grate,  and,  occasionally,  beating  time 
with  her  foot  upon  the  carpet,  he  requested  an  exhibition  of 
her  musical  powers. 

With  an  abstracted,  listless  air,  she  drew  the  harp  towards 
her,  and  asked  what  was  his  favorite  song.  He  answered, 
by  soliciting  the  performance  of  her  own  favorite  instead, 
remarking,  with  a  smile,  that  it  would  of  course  be  a  love- 
song. 

"  No,  it  will  not ; "  she  replied,  with  a  return  of  her  usual 
gaiety.  "  There  are  higher  and  nobler  qualities  than  love,  as 
you  will  presently  admit.  I  wish  my  voice  could  follow  my 
soul  in  this  song." 

With  a  slight  toss  of  her  head,  she  threw  back  her  curls, 
and  swept  her  hand  lightly  across  the  chords.  The  touch 
appeared  to  satisfy  her  keen  sense  of  harmony,  for  she 
paused  a  moment,  and  said:  "This  song  is  called  'The 
Polish  Poet's  Prayer.' " 

With  a  low,  faint  whisper  of  melody,  the  scene  opened  in 
a  starlight  evening  in  Poland's  valleys.  A  youth  was  kneel 
ing  upon  his  sword  on  the  greensward,  and  a  few  armed  war 
riors  knelt  behind  him  with  uncovered  heads.  The  harp 
trembled  forth  the  humility  and  pathos  of  the  opening 
prayer,  that  God  would  bless  them  in  the  coming  battle,  but 
not  with  victory — no,  that  was  hopeless ;  the  iron  hand  of 
the  tyrant  was  fast  grinding  them  down.  Their  homes  and 


STOKMCLIFF.  115 

native  valleys  were  doomed  to  slavery,  and  they  were  going 
forth  to  die  on  the  sacred  soil  of  their  ruined  country.  The 
agonized  tones  of  Gethsemane  broke  forth  from  the  harp,  in 
union  with  the  voice  of  the  young  girl,  whose  eyes  looked 
heavenward.  "  O  God !  may  our  blood  enrich  the  soil ! 
Aye!  may  the  memory  of  the  life  so  freely  to  be  offered 
spring  from  the  grass,  when  our  young  boys  and  maidens 
pass,  and  nei've  them  to  wear  ever  in  their  hearts  the  longing 
and  the  undying  hope  of  freedom !  May  Poland  be  to  the 
nations  the  Christ  of  Liberty,  bearing  His  bloody  cross 
through  fields  of  agony,  rising  and  falling,  and  rising  and 
falling  again  only  to  teach  the  nations  the  sublimity  of  suf 
fering  and  agony  endured  for  every  holy  cause." 

The  listeners  bent  forward  in  tearful  interest,  as  the  lips 
of  the  singer  quivered  in  that  upward  glance  of  prayer,  and 
the  harp  murmured  in  unison. 

"  But  truth  and  liberty  shall  never  die."  The  words  broke 
forth  from  her  sweet  lips  like  an  angel's  clarion  notes,  and 
the  harp-strings  twanged  out  thrilling  strains  of  triumphant 
harmony.  "When  we  are  dead,  Poland  shall  live;  the  sacri 
fice  shall  be  complete,  and  the  bright  crown  fall  upon  her 
head  whom  we  have  loved  so  well." 

The  notes  of  victory  pierced  to  the  sky,  and  then  Marie 
stood  motionless  and  radiant  as  an  angel  of  prophecy. 
Turning,  with  a  smile,  to  Rutherford,  she  asked  if  love  was 
the  loftiest  passion  of  humanity  ? 

"I  have  always  fancied  that  it  was,"  he  said,  "until  now. 
But  you  have  shaken  my  belief.  I  am  confident  that,  with 
your  face  and  voice,  you  could  move  a  nation  to  arms." 

"You  are  disposed  to  be  complimentary,  to-night,  Mr. 
Rutherford,"  she  said,  with  a  tone  that  indicated  perfect 
indifference  to  his  flattery,  and,  relinquishing  her  harp,  she 
turned  away  to  her  portfolio,  to  show  her  guests  some 
sketches  of  the  highlands  which  she  had  made  in  the  past 
summer. 

"I  recognise  this  cliff,"  said  Miss  Warner,  turning  over 


116  STORMCLIFF. 

the  loose  papers  of  the  portfolio.  "  I  have  sailed  near  it  often, 
But  you  have  something  on  the  top  of  it  that  looks  like 
human  life,  and  that  surely  cannot  be  accurate,  for  the  cliff 
is  inaccessible.  Perhaps  that  is  only  a  matter  of  your  fancy 
to  heighten  the  effect." 

"No,"  said  Marie,  "it  is  correct.  One  evening  when  I 
was  quietly  sketching,  and  the  atmosphere  was  unusually 
clear,  I  saw  a  human  figure  moving  on  the  very  sum 
mit.  I  thought,  at  first,  I  must  be  mistaken ;  but,  upon 
moving  my  position,  and  bringing  the  object  directly  be 
tween  me  and  the  sky,  I  was  confident  that  it  moved. 
Observing  the  strange  apparition  for  a  long  time,  I  became 
satisfied  that  it  was  a  human  being,  and  sketched  it  in  my 
drawing  just  as  it  appeared  to  me.  You  see  it  is  a  human 
being,  but  whether  man  or  woman,  I  could  not  tell.  What 
do  you  think  of  the  matter,  Mr.  Rutherford?  Could  any 
body  possibly  attain  the  summit  of  that  rock  unless  in  a  bal 
loon.  Why,  what  is  the  matter  with  you?  You  color  up 
like  a  girl." 

The  lawyer  was  disconcerted  by  the  abruptness  of  her  ap. 
peal  to  his  judgment.  For  a  moment  he  stammered  and  was 
at  a  loss  what  to  answer.  The  cliff  was  the  identical  one 
where  he  had  tempted  God  by  straining  so  terribly  upon  his 
thread  of  existence,  and  moreover  in  regard  to  its  accessi 
bility  he  had  promised  Nora  Rudd  to  remain  for  ever  silent. 
Finally  he  managed  to  stammer  forth  something  to  the  effect 
that  it  was  always  spoken  of  as  inaccessible,  and  that  any 
man  would  be  a  lunatic  who  attempted  to  scale  it.  He  pass 
ed  immediately  to  other  sketches  in  the  portfolio,  and  com 
menced  to  descant  earnestly  upon  their  merits.  Buth  is  em 
barrassment  had  been  too  palpable  to  the  quick  eyes  of  both 
ladies ;  and  when,  after  a  few  minutes,  he  had  taken  his  de 
parture,  they  failed  not  to  exchange  opinions  in  regard  to  his 
singular  deportment  under  so  simple  an  interrogatory.  It 
was  the  first  instance  where  his  language  and  manner  had 
been  other  than  open,  and  candid,  and  self-possessed. 


STORMCLIFF.  117 

After  the  young  ladies  had  retired  to  their  room  for  the 
night,  Marie  lay  awake  a  long  time  thinking  of  the  occur 
rences  of  that  day.  She  had  learned  the  secret  of  her  own 
heart — she  had  witnessed  Rutherford's  legal  ability,  and  for 
the  first  time  had  seen  him  mysterious.  What  in  her  sketch 
and  simple  question  could  have  caused  his  strange  embarrass 
ment  ?  The  more  she  pondered  the  matter,  the  keener  grew 
her  curiosity,  and  the  firmer  her  determination  to  probe  the 
mystery.  If  in  her  character  there  was  one  stronger  love 
than  the  love  of  mystery,  it  was  a  passion  for  persistent  and 
skilful  effort  to  unravel  the  web  of  reticence  and  obscurity 
in  which  some  people  are  prone  to  envelop  themselves. 
Here  was  her  hero,  a  man  of  mysterious  parentage,  by  a 
single  blush  suddenly  associated  with  the  contents  of  her 
own  portfolio.  Was  it  not  worth  an  effort  to  unravel  the 
matter  ?  Her  love  should  remain  ever  a  secret.  But  in  re 
gard  to  that  noble,  suffering,  persecuted  genius,  she  must 
and  would  know  everything.  It  was  due  to  her  own  self 
respect  and  sense  of  propriety  in  giving  away  her  heart's  trea 
sure. 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"Tnis  is  such  a  dreary  Christmas,  grandpa.  Santa  Claus 
won't  come  this  time — do  you  think  he  will  ?"  The  little  in 
quirer  turned  his  pitiful  emaciated  face  from  the  window-pane 
where  he  had  long  been  contemplating'  the  driving  snow 
storm,  to  the  old  man  who  sat  in  an  arm-chair  near  the  fire, 
which  was  slowly  and  with  flickering  blaze  consuming  his 
last  stick  of  wood.  TJie  grandfather  looked  sadly  up  from 
his  painful  meditations,  and  his  dejected,  care-worn  air  indi 
cated  that  hope  had  long  since  spread  her  departing  wings. 

"  No,  my  child.  I  fear  old  Santa  Claus  has  deserted  us 
this  time." 

He  glanced  at  the  little  ragged  stocking  which  the  child 


118  STORMCLIFF. 

had  hung  on  the  chimney  the  night  before.  This  touching 
evidence  of  the  little  fellow's  faith  in  the  coming  of  the  good 
saint,  brought  tears  to  his  eyes,  and  he  tried  to  brush  them 
covertly  away.  But  the  boy  detected  them,  and  his  bare  feet 
came  patting  along  the  floor  to  the  arm-chair. 

"  Don't  cry,  grandpa.  I  don't  care  much  about  this  Christ 
mas.  I  can  wait  till  next  time." 

He  climbed  up  on  the  old  man's  knee  and  put  his  arms 
caressingly  about  his  neck. 

"  Don't  cry,  grandpa.    Indeed  you  mustn't." 

The  action  and  tenderness  of  the  boy  caused  the  tears  to 
flow  faster.  Old  memories  were  crowding  upon  his  mind, 
and,  contrasting  the  happy  and  comfortable  days,  when  the 
grandmother  had  lived  and  gladdened  the  boy's  heart  with 
well  crammed  Christmas  stockings  and  hearty  dinners,  with 
the  desolation  and  starvation  of  this  bleak,  pitiless  day,  he 
found  his  old  heart  almost  ready  to  break.  No  meal  had 
graced  their  table,  and  the  day  was  nearly  gone.  The  night 
shadows  were  gathering,  and  the  cold  was  increasing  with  the 
violence  of  the  storm.  When  that  small  flickering  fire  was  gone 
out,  they  could  creep  supperless  to  bed,  to  awaken  to  a  fire- 
less  and  lonely  day  of  hunger.  Rheumatism  had  held  the  old 
man  for  several  days  a  prisoner  in  his  house. 

For  the  sake  of  the  hungry  and  disappointed  child,  he  made 
an  effort  and  spoke  calmly  again. 

"  It  looks  mighty  gloomy  for  ns  this  time — don't  it,  Bobby  ? 
But  we  must  keep  a  stout  heart  to  fight  our  way  through  this 
rough  old  world.  When  I  was  a  boy  like  you,  my  father's 
house  burnt  up  one  winter  night,  and  we  all  had  to  run  half- 
naked  through  the  snow.  You  see  how  good  God  has  been 
to  leave  us  this  comfortable  roof  over  pur  heads.  We  might 
be  worse  off  than  this,  my  boy.  Just  think;  our  gracious 
Lord  and  Master  had  no  place  to  lay  His  sacred  head." 

"  Didn't  he  have  nothing  to  eat  ?"  inquired  the  child,  anx. 
iously. 

"  No  ;  nothing,"  replied  the  old  man.     "  He  hadn't  even  a 


STORMCLIFF.  119 

drink  of  water.  "When  he  asked  for  water,  they  gave  him 
something  bitter  and  disagreeable  to  drink." 

The  boy  looked  thoughtfully  into  the  fire  for  a  moment. 
Then  he  shivered  and  said  : 

"  Fire's  most  gone.  Then  how  cold  it  will  be."  Suddenly 
he  looked  up  into  his  grandfather's  face.  A  bright  thought 
had  struck  him : 

"  Grandma  used  to  say  when  you're  in  trouble  read  in  the 
old  Bible  ;  let's  do  it,  grandpa — shall  we  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  hopelessly  again.  "  That's  all 
that's  left  us  now." 

The  boy  climbed  down  to  the  floor  again,  and  ran  patter 
ing  across  the  room  for  the  book.  It  was  lying  in  the  win 
dow,  where  he  had  been  gazing  out  into  the  storm.  He 
brought  it  to  his  grandfather,  and  then  seating  himself  on  a 
stool,  said : 

"  Where  shall  I  read  ?" 

"  Open  it  without  looking,"  was  the  reply,  "  and  read  just 
there." 

The  boy  shut  his  eyes  and  opened  the  volume.  Then  look 
ing  down,  he  read  slowly  and  with  difficulty  these  startling 
lines  :  "  Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the  presence  of 
mine  enemies  :  thou  anointest  my  head  with  oil :  my  cup  run 
neth  over." 

"  That  must  be  mere  accident,"  said  the  old  man,  nervous 
ly  ;  "  open  at  another  place,  Bobby." 

The  boy  closed  his  eyes  again,  and  opened  the  book. 

"  The  Lord  also  will  be  a  refuge  for  the  oppressed,  a  refuge 
in  times  of  trouble.  And  they  that  know  thy  name  will  put 
their  trust  in  thee  :  for  thou,  Lord,  hast  not  forsaken  them 
that  seek  thee." 

The  trembling  old  man  put  his  hand  on  the  head  of  the 
boy,  and  said  solemnly  : 

"  That  will  do,  Bobby ;  I  believe  that,  from  the  bottom  of 
my  soul.  Kneel  down,  my  child,  beside  your  old  grand 
father  while  he  prays  to  God,  and  join  your  little  voice  in  the 


120  STORMCLIFF.  , 

prayer.  God  is  going  to  send  us  everything  we  need,  if  we 
can  only  pray  earnestly  and  humbly  to  Him.  Kneel  down, 
Bobby." 

The  little  anxious  sufferer  obeyed  this  direction,  and  laid 
his  face  on  the  old  man's  knee,  as  the  voice  of  supplication 
arose  to  the  merciful  Father  of  all.  The  last  stick  of  wood 
had  turned  into  a  long  glowing  coal,  and  now  suddenly  fell 
apart.  It  was  unnoticed  in  the  intensity  of  prayer  with  which 
these  lonely  beings  besieged  the  throne  of  God.  The  suppli 
cation  went  on,  and  the  glow  of  the  coals  waxed  fainter  and 
fainter,  and  slowly  the  thin  veil  of  ashes  gathered  over  their 
brightness.  The  voices  of  the  driving  storm  sounded  louder, 
and  the  sleet  commenced  to  dash  against  the  windows.  The 
darkness  enveloped  the  little  house  without,  and  the  dying 
embers  glared  feebly  on  the  walls  within.  But  the  more  ap 
palling  the  night  appeared,  and  the  more  helpless  the  isola 
tion  of  the  sufferers  seemed,  the  brighter  and  holier  gleamed 
the  star  of  faith  and  prayer. 

"  There  comes  God,"  exclaimed  the  startled  child,  raising 
his  head  as  a  knock  sounded  upon  the  door.  His  grand 
father,  unheeding  the  sound,  prayed  on  louder  and  more 
earnestly.  The  wind  whistled  violently  by ;  then  wailing 
and  moaning,  it  reversed  its  course,  and  dashed  the  sleet 
with  a  loud  rattle  against  the  glass.  The  child  clung  closer 
to  the  supplicant  and  listened.  Again  that  mysterious  rap 
upon  the  door.  The  old  man  finished  his  prayer,  and  raising 
his  head,  exclaimed :  "  In  the  name  of  God,  come  in  !" 

The  door  opened,  and  the  snow  whirled  into  the  dark 
apartment.  A  muffled  figure,  tall  and  indistinctly  revealed, 
strode  quickly  in  and  closed  the  door  against  the  storm. 
The  darkness  seemed  to  bewilder  the  intruder.  "  Welcome, 
stranger,"  said  the  proprietor  of  the  house;  "I  have  no 
light ;  but  you  are  welcome." 

"  Don't  you  recognise  me,  Nathan  Weaver  ?"  said  a  female 
voice.  " I  never  thought  you  could  forget  me" 

"Merciful  God!  it  is  my  friend,  the  lady  Nora.     A  thou- 


STORMCLIFF.  121 

sand  blessings  on  your  head.  Run,  Bobby,  and  get  the  old 
lady  a  chair — quick,  lad,  quick." 

Nora  Rudd  advanced  to  the  faintly-lighted  hearth,  and 
took  the  offered  seat.  She  drew  it  to  the  old  man's  side 
and  took  his  hand. 

"  Did  you  think  I  could  ever  forget  you,  old  man  ?  No, 
indeed.  I  have  brought  you  a  fine  Christmas  dinner.  It  is 
under  your  shed  with  my  horse.  And  oh  !  I  have  news  that 
will  brighten  your  old  heart.  I  have  charge  of  '  The  Glen ' 
in  behalf  of  the  young  widow,  Mrs.  Baltimoi'e,  and  listen 
now ;  you,  and  you  only,  are  to  be  the  gardener  again.  I 
have  the  selection  of  all  the  servants,  and  you  are  to  go  back 
to  your  old  place.  All  the  flowers  and  greenhouses  pass 
once  more  into  your  keeping,  and  all  your  old  improvements 
are  to  be  listened  to,  and  will  probably  be  adopted.  Cheer 
up — cheer  up.  What's  the  matter  with  you,  old  man  ;  can't 
you  speak  ?" 

He  was  choking,  gasping  for  breath.  His  hands  grasped 
•wildly  about  in  the  air.  Then  he  grew  calmer,  but  he  could 
not  speak.  At  last  he  whispered : 

"It  will  pass — it  will  pass.  It  is  too  much  joy  for  the  old 
man.  Don't  be  frightened,  Bobby  ;  it  will  soon  pass." 

Finally  he  recovered  his  voice,  and  said  reverently:  "Bless 
the  God  and  Father  of  the  friendless,  for  He  has  done  this. 
Oh !  give  that  little  boy  a  mouthful  of  bread — the  bread 
which  has  come  down  from  heaven." 

Little  Bobby  crept  to  the  side  of  the  tall  woman  an<7 
clutched  her  dress.  "  Did  you  come  down  from  heaven,  too  * 
Grandpa  knew  the  bread  was  coming.  He  said  everythintf 
we  needed  was  comin',  and  oh,  I'm  so  glad.  I'm  so  hungry." 

"  Hungry ! "  exclaimed  Nora  in  astonishment,  grasping 
the  child  in  her  arms  and  trying  to  make  out  his  features  in 
the  faint  light  of  the  dying  coals. 

"  You  do  not  mean  to  say,  Nathan  Weaver,  that  you  have 
absolutely  been  destitute  of  bread." 

"Aye,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  can  say  all  of  that  truth- 

6 


122  STOEMCLIFF. 

fully  enough.  There  was  no  work  that  a  feeble  old  man  like 
me  could  do.  These  people  about  here  who  have  small 
places  don't  appreciate  the  kind  of  gardening  I've  been  used 
to,  and  then  they're  very  close  about  spending  money  for 
fancy  gardening.  The  Baltimores,  and  the  Fentons,  and  the 
Marshalls,  and  the  like  of  them,  was  very  different  people  to 
deal  with.  When  'The  Glen'  was  shut  up,  and  the  old 
gentleman  discharged  me,  I  found  all  the  big  folks  had 
gardeners,  as  many  as  they  wanted ;  and  I  had  to  pick  up  a 
little  work  here,  and  a  little  work  there.  But  in  the  winters 
I  suffered  a  good  deal.  And  now  this  winter  my  roomatiz 
has  broke  me  up  completely.  Little  Bobby  and  me  was  just 
on  the  pint  of  starvin'.  But  we  have  been  praying  to  a 
God  hearing,  and  a  God  answering  prayer ;  and  while  the 
prayer  was  on  our  very  lips,  in  comes  my  lady  Nora  and 
answers  it." 

"  Hush !"  said  she,  putting  her  finger  on  his  lips  ;  "  don't 
call  me  by  that  title  again ;  have  you  forgotten  your  pro 
mise  ?" 

"  It  was  forgetful  of  me  to  do  it,"  he  replied,  abashed  ; 
"  but  it  seems  mighty  hard  sometimes  to  bridle  my  tongue. 
But  tell  me  ;  what  sort  of  lady  is  this  new  mistress  of  '  The 
Glen  ?'  Her  father  always  seemed  to  me  a  fine  gentleman, 
and  he  bore  a  good  name  among  his  servants — so  I  heard 
from  Margaret,  my  daughter,  who  was  this  little  boy's 
mother." 

"  I'll  tell  you  all  about  that  as  soon  as  I  can  bring  in  your 
dinner  and  make  you  comfortable.  Have  you  any  candle  or 
any  fuel  ?" 

"  Neither  one  nor  the  other,"  replied  Weaver.  "  We  have 
come  to  a  pretty  hard  pass,  I  can  tell  you." 

"To-morrow  you  shall  have  a  cord  of  wood  sawed  and 
split,"  said  Nora.  "  In  the  meantime  I  will  take  the  old  axe 
that  lies  under  your  shed  and  knock  off  some  of  the  fence 
boards  to  make  you  a  fire.  I  will  have  all  made  right 
to-morrow,  so  that  your  landlord  won't  complain.  I'm  going 


STOKMCLIFF.  123 

to  hire  ycm  right  away  and  put  you  in  one  of  the  workshops 
of  'The  Glen,'  where  you  can  make  yourself  useful  at  once. 
Now  for  your  dinner.  Little  boy,  bring  out  your  table  and 
put  it  near  the  fire ;  I  will  make  it  groan  before  many 
minutes." 

Saying  this,  Nora  went  out  again  into  the  storm.  In  a 
few  minutes  she  returned  with  two  large  covered  baskets, 
and  giving  little  Bobby  a  leg  of  a  cold  chicken  to  stay  his 
appetite,  went  out  again  after  the  fuel.  In  the  pauses  of  the 
storm  her  axe  could  be  heard  dashing  against  the  doomed 
fence,  and  before  Bobby  had  succeeded  in  cleaning  his  large 
chicken-bone,  she  returned  with  an  armful  of  dry  wood  and 
flung  it  upon  the  floor.  She  soon  recalled  the  dying  embers 
to  life,  and  her  kindling-wood  commenced  to  burn.  Higher 
and  higher  blazed  the  cheering  flame  as  she  gradually  piled 
on  the  combustible  fragments  of  the  fence.  Higher  and 
higher  rose  the  spirits  of  the  old  man  and  child  in  the  genial 
radiance.  Little  Bobby  stole  quietly  to  his  grandfather's 
knee,  still  grasping  his  precious  bone,  and  whispered : 

"  She  must  have  come  from  heaven — don't  you  think  so  ?" 

"  God  sent  her,  my  child,  in  answer  to  our  prayer,  no 
doubt,"  replied  Weaver,  beginning  to  experience  relief  in  his 
rheumatic  limbs  as  the  warmth  of  the  pine  materials  rapidly 
spread  over  the  room. 

Nora,  intent  upon  her  charitable  mission,  paid  no  heed  to 
their  conversation,  but  went  on  in  the  preparation  of  the 
dinner.  She  ransacked  the  cupboard  for  dishes  and  cooking 
utensils.  Frying-pans  and  saucepans  were  dragged  out  from 
their  long  concealment  and  washed,  and  then  placed  upon 
the  fire  with  various  cold  fowls  and  vegetables  to  be  warmed 
over.  And  a  huge  turkey,  already  cooked  to  a  handsome 
brown,  was  taken  from  a  basket  and  suspended  before  the 
fire  by  a  string,  to  be  made  piping  hot  for  the  dinner. 

While  the  meats  were  warming,  the  old  nurse  produced 
pies  and  apples  and  nuts,  from  one  of  the  wonderful  baskets, 
and  laid  them  aside  for  their  dessert.  At  the  sight  of  every 


124  STORMCLIFF. 

new  delicacy,  as  it  emerged  from  the  baskets,  little  Bobby 
would  clap  his  hands  in  glee  and  hurry  across  the  apartment 
to  inform  his  grandfather.  Christmas  had  come,  sure 
enough,  for  his  poor,  tired,  hungry  little  body ;  and  his  ema 
ciated  countenance  was  lighted  with  the  sweetest  expression 
of  expectation  and  happiness,  as  he  danced  about  Nora. 

At  last  everything  was  in  readiness,  and  the  steaming 
viands  were  placed  upon  the  table.  A  fresh  supply  of  fuel 
was  flung  upon  the  fire  to  serve  as  a  substitute  for  candles, 
and  the  arm-chair  of  old  Weaver  was  drawn  to  the  head 
of  the  table.  Nora  sat  opposite  to  him,  and  the  face  of 
Bobby  just  reached  above  the  board  at  one  side,  as  he  sat  in 
a  low  seat,  which  was  the  best  that  could  be  arranged  for 
him.  At  a  glance  from  Nora,  the  old  m;m  leaned  forward 
solemnly  to  say  grace.  His  voice  was  husky,  and  clearing  it, 
he  made  a  second  attempt.  The  words  were  tremulous  and 
could  not  be  heard.  He  made  a  third  attempt,  and ,  burst 
into  tears.  His  emotion  was  overpowering,  and  he  bade 
Nora  say  grace  for  him.  She  bent  her  face  downward  and 
obeyed  his  request.  At  the  conclusion,  he  pronounced  a 
tremulous  "  Amea." 

Then  the  repast  was  quickly  made  way  with,  for  it  was  the 
first  meal  of  that  day.  Christmas  closed  upon  that  lonely 
family  in  contentment  and  cheer ;  and  when  Bobby  had 
finished  his  hearty  meal,  and  sat  down  upon  the  little  stool 
beside  the  roaring,  crackling  fire,  and  listened  to  the  storm 
without,  he  said :  "  Grandpa,  if  Santa  Glaus  had  only  come 
it  would  be  all  right,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"How  do  you  know  he  hasn't  come?"  replied  Weaver. 
"  That  stocking  looks  mighty  fat  to  me."  Bobby  glanced 
upward  at  the  forgotten  token  of  his  faith.  His  eyes  opened 
to  wondrous  dimensions  as  the  stocking  met  his  gaze. 
Somebody  had  surely  been  tampering  with  it.  It  had 
swelled  to  aldevmanic  proportions.  He  walked  timidly  up 
to  it,  and  then,  as  the  first  symptoms  of  his  surprise  passed 
away,  the  sweetest  of  smiles  wreathed  his  little  mouth,  and 


STOEMCLIFF.  125 

he  exclaimed  :  "  Darlin'  old  Santa  Glaus,  he  never  did  forgit 
little  Bobby." 

While  the  child  explored  the  mysteries  of  the  stocking, 
Nora  cleared  away  the  table,  and  then  drew  her  chair  to  the 
side  of  the  old  gardener,  to  satisfy  his  inquiries  in  regard  to 
the  character  and  expectations  of  the  new  mistress  of  ''The 
Glen."  He  had  grown  up  almost  from  childhood  in  the 
employ  of  the  Baltimore  family,  and  he  considered  himself 
personally  concerned  in  the  chagrin  and  disappointment 
which  possessed  the  relatives  of  that  family  upon  learning 
of  the  total  alienation  of  "  The  Glen"  estate  from  their 
blood.  Nora  proceeded  to  give  him  her  opinion  of  the 
young  widow. 

"  I  want  you  to  like  the  new  mistress,"  she  said.  "  Grace 
Traver  endeared  herself  to  me  from  infancy;  I  had  the  sole 
charge  of  her  until  that  strange  marriage.  And  I  will  say 
that  a  truer-hearted  girl  never  existed.  She  had  her  faults, 
but  they  arose  from  her  impetuous  nature.  No  one  was  ever 
more  prompt  and  sincere  in  confessing  that  they  had  done 
wrong.  No  one  was  ever  more  willing  to  make  reparation. 
She  appeared  to  be  unusually  fond  of  the  heroic  and  the 
fearless.  Sometimes  when  she  was  occupied  with  her  lessons, 
and  one  of  her  father's  wild  horses  chanced  to  pass  by  her 
window  in  grazing,  she  has,  to  my  utter  amazement,  dashed 
aside  her  book,  sprung  through  the  window,  and  with  a  leap 
gained  the  horse's  back,  and  clinging  to  his  mane,  rushed 
through  the  meadows  like  an  insane  person.  In  a  few 
minutes  she  would  come  walking  in  with  a  heightened  color, 
and  exclaim  :  '  Forgive  me,  Nora,  for  being  so  rude  and 
neglecting  my  lesson  ;  but  that  horse  looked  exactly  as  if  he 
thought  he  had  thrown  off  all  authority,  and  I  just  wanted 
to  teach  him  that  he  did  have  a  mistress.  Now  I  will  be 
ever  so  good.' 

"Then  she  would  glance  so  mischievously  up  at  me  out 
of  those  dark  eyes,  that  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  rebuke  her. 
Indeed,  I  generally  was  forced  to  laugh .  in  spite  of  myself. 


126  STOBMCLIFF. 

She  had  an  independent  way,  too,  of  expressing  her  opinions 
concerning  the  characters  she  met  with  in  her  history  les 
sons.  She  generally  criticized  pretty  sharply  those  personages 
whom  everybody  likes  in  history.  She  would  glean  facts 
from  the  book  she  was  reading,  and  then  place  these  persons 
in  so  ludicrous  a  light  that  all  reverence  for  them  was  lost. 
She  never  appeared  to  fancy  men  whose  great  deeds  were 
strongly  tinctured  with  self-interest.  But  exhibit  to  her  men 
and  women  who  had  been  palpably  self-sacrificing,  and  she 
would  instantly  write  down  their  names,  and  say,  '  I  must 
study  them  further.'  I  fear  it  was  under  the  impression 
that  she  was  herself  doing  some  such  noble  act,  that  she 
consented  to  marry  Mr.  Baltimore. 

"  There  is  another  element  in  her  disposition  that  I  wish 
you,  Weaver,  particularly  to  remember.  Never,  under  any 
circumstances,  attempt  to  flatter  her  personally.  You  can 
always  obtain  any  concession  from  her  that  is  reasonable 
by  respectful  request.  But  if  you  pay  compliments  to  her, 
you  will  see  her  become  reserved,  and  the  chances  are  that 
she  will  suspect  you  of  base  motives.  She  is  a  little  myste 
rious,  too,  at  times  ;  and  when  she  sets  out  to  conceal  her 
feelings  or  her  plans,  I  defy  the  sharpest  intellect  to  fathom 
her.  Mind,  I  am  speaking  to  you  of  her  when  she  was  only 
fifteen.  Time  and  experience  may  have  modified  some  of 
her  peculiarities.  Are  you  listening  to  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  lady  Nora.  I  beg  your  pardon ;  Nora,  I  mean. 
I  hear  all  you  say,  and  trust  me,  I  shall  make  no  mistakes. 
But  this  troubles  me,  from  your  talk.  If  she  is  such  a  wild, 
hasty  creature  as  you  say,  how  is  she  going  to  keep  up  the 
dignity  of  the  old  family  on  that  place  ?  That's  what 
bothers  me.  I  should  think  you  wouldn't  like  to  witness 
any  letting  down  in  the  old  manners  of  the  place." 

Old  Weaver  looked  keenly  at  her  in  the  firelight,  but  no 
change  of  countenance  was  visible  in  that  self-possessed 
being  as  she  replied  : 

"No  fear  of  her  lacking  dignity,  Weaver;  you'll  see  enough 


STORMCLIFF.  127 

of  that  "before  you  have  known  her  long.  She  is  inclined  to 
reserve  in  the  presence  of  those  who  are  not  familiar  with 
her.  But  you  must  not  allow  my  words  to  prejudice  you 
against  the  new  mistress.  I  am  sure  you  will  love  her  upon 
acquaintance.  But " 

Nora  paused  a  moment  in  doubt,  and  then  continued : 

"I  must  trust  you, Weaver,  with  a  certain  matter  that  you 
can  understand  better  than  any  one  else.  Can  I  rely  upon 
your  doing  a  secret  service  for  me  at  '  The  Glen  ?'  " 

"  How  can  you  doubt  it  ?"  was  the  instantaneous  and  frank 
reply  of  the  gardener.  "  You  have  been  so  kind  to  me,  so 
considerate  to  an  old  man's  feelings,  I  will  serve  you  sooner 
than  any  person  alive,  be  he  man  or  woman." 

"  I  was  confident  of  it,  Weaver.  Now,  all  your  skill  and 
discretion  will  be  called  into  exercise.  You  recollect  the 
unfortunate  .mother  of  Mrs.  Granville,  don't  you?" 

"Indeed  I  do,"  replied  the  gardener,  with  increasing  in 
terest  of  manner.  "  Who  should  remember  her  if  I  didn't  ? 
The  sweetest  lady  that  ever  walked  she  was." 

"  Well,"  continued  Nora,  "  she  is  at '  The  Glen.'  » 

"  How  is  that  ?"  asked  the  astounded  listener.  "  At '  The 
Glen  ?'  Is  she  herself  again  ?  Why  don't  she  go  to  her 
daughter  ?  What  call  has  she  to  «  The  Glen  ?'  " 

Nora  looked  earnestly  at  the  gardener,  and  said,  hi  a  low 
tone,  that  the  boy  might  not  hear :  "  She  is  not  recovered  ; 
she  is  worse.  But  she  has  escaped,  and  we  have  concealed 
her  at  the  old  house.  There  she  is  to  remain,  and  I  want 
you  to  keep  her  hid  there  till  we  can  make  some  other  dis 
position  of  her.  She  has  been  cruelly  treated,  and  we  are 
resolved  that  they  shall  not  have  her  again." 

This  reply  was  greeted  by  a  low  whistle  of  surprise  from 
Weaver.  He  glanced  at  Bobby.  The  little  fellow,  who  had 
been  playing  with  his  Christmas  toys  on  the  hearth,  was  just 
at  that  moment  stretching  himself  on  the  floor,  at  full  length, 
for  a  sleep.  When  his  grandfather  saw  that  his  eyes  were 
shut  in  unconsciousness,  he  answered  Nora  : 


"  i  3  STORMCLIFF. 

"  This  is  a  strange  affair.  This  whole  business  puzzles  me. 
But  who  knows  about  it,  and  what  am  I  to  do  ?" 

She  related  the  whole  affair  of  the  rescue  to  him,  and 
added  :  "  I  expect  you  to  occupy  the  rooms  in  the  workshop 
which  I  am  having  fitted  up  for  you.  In  one  of  those  rooms 
I  want  you  to  keep  the  lunatic  secretly  confined,  and  see  to 
it  that  no  one  has  access  to  her  but  her  daughter  at  night." 

"  I  will  do  your  pleasure,"  he  answered,  slowly,  "  and  do 
the  best  I  can :  but  it  is  going  to  be  a  hard  task.  Never 
mind,  I'll  do  it  for  you." 

"  Then,"  said  Nora,  rising  to  go,  "  I  will  send  my  sleigh 
for  you  and  your  little  boy  to-morrow,  and  will  give  you  fur 
ther  instructions  when  you  arrive  at  '  The  Glen.'  " 

In  a  few  seconds  more  the  tall  figure  vanished  through 
the  door,  and  the  gardener  was  left  alone  with  his  sleeping 
grandchild.  He  sat  a  long  time  meditating  upon  the  matter, 
and  then  hobbled  about  the  room  preparatory  to  retiring  to 
his  bed.  Occasionally  he  muttered  to  himself: 

"  She  has  taken  a  difficult  task  on  herself — she  can't  stand 
it — no  1  no !  It  will  break  her  down  after  awhile,  sure." 


CHAPTER  XH. 

THE  summer  of will  long  be  remembered  as  a  season 

of  suffering  and  horror.  The  death-angel  held  almost  undis 
puted  sway.  He  visited  the  hut  and  the  mansion  with  im 
partial  and  rapid  tread ;  and  where  he  entered,  faces  grew" 
thin  and  pale,  and  bright  eyes  glazed  and  closed  for  ever. 
Where  the  spectre  was  least  expected,  he  noiselessly  came. 
The  ruddy  cheek  and  the  robust  frame  were  no  better  pro 
tection  than  the  sickly  face  and  the  emaciated  figure.  He 
waved  his  sceptre  over  the  ball-room,  and  the  fair  girl  sud 
denly  grew  livid ;  her  smile  died  on  her  lips ;  she  bade  adieu 
to  her  admirers,  and  followed  the  dreadful  messenger  out 


STORMCLIFF.  129 

to  her  grave.  The  quiet  student,  at  midnight,  looked  fear 
fully  up  from  his  book  when  he  heard  the  slight  tap  at  his 
door.  Too  well  he  understood  the  dread  summons,  and 
turned  in  vain  to  the  little  red  vial  upon  his  mantelpiece, 
hoping  to  thrust  it  successfully  in  the  face  of  the  grim  moni 
tor.  Alas !  drugs  seemed  to  have  lost  their  virtue  in  the 
passing  anger  of  heaven  ;  and  he,  too,  followed  sadly  at 
last.  Away  down  the  streets  of  the  busy  and  hurrying  mart 
the  death-angel  passed ;  and  as  he  looked  behind  the  desk 
of  the  counting-room  the  banker  shivered,  and  whispered  to 
God  to  grant  him  one  more  year  to  repent  and  employ  his 
stewardship  in  the  sole  service  of  heaven.  "  Too  late,  too 
late  !"  moaned  the  sere  conscience  ;  and  the  golden  sceptre, 
which  was  worshipped  on  the  street,  passed  away  from  him 
for  ever.  The  faithful  Christian  was  surprised  in  the  midst 
of  his  usefulness,  and  his  lamp  of  charity  quickly  extinguish 
ed  and  snatched  away  from  his  hand,  to  be  replaced  by  a 
golden  harp  in  the  mansion  of  his  Father.  Oh !  it  was  a  sad 
sight  to  witness  the  god  of  this  world  hurled  from  his  pedes 
tal  in  so  many  hearts,  and  a  God  of  fear  only  substituted  in 
his  place.  But,  unmindful  of  the  saint's  hope  and  the  sin 
ner's  fear,  the  awful  pestilence  held  on  its  ghastly  way.  The 
faithful  physicians  met  and  grappled  it  at  every  turn,  then 
fell  themselves  corpses  at  its  touch.  Another  class  of  heal 
ers,  the  physicians  of  the  soul,  the  ministers  and  priests  of 
the  altar,  who  flee  not  when  the  wolf  cometh,  were  at  their 
posts  too.  They  poured  the  balm  of  Gilead  into  the  sick  and 
weary  souls  of  men,  and  when  death  came  it  found  many  of 
their  patients  ready. 

Foremost  and  zealous  among  the  clergy  who  nursed  the 
convalescents  and  blessed  the  dying,  moved  the  Rev. 
Charles  Heron.  No  toil,  no  sacrifice,  no  weary  watching, 
no  nursing  was  able  to  break  his  indomitable  will,  or  shiver 
his  priestly  lamp  of  faithfulness  and  devotion.  Enveloped 
in  the  armor  of  his  martyred  master's  zeal,  he  faced  the 
dread  cholera,  and  his  blazing  faith  was  the  sword  that 

6* 


130  STORMCLIFF. 

warded  off  from  himself  the  blows  of  the  white  death 
In  the  early  morning  he  bowed  before  God,  and  wrestled  in 
prayer  for  the  grant  of  human  lives,  and  immortal  souls;  and 
then  rising,  he  walked  forth  in  the  majesty  of  his  priestly 
mission,  to  aid  the  perishing  with  care  and  comfort  an^ 
religion.  Oh !  how  sublime  a  thing  it  is  to  minister  to  suf 
fering  humanity  in  the  name  of  Jesus.  The  poor,  the  lowly, 
the  rich,  the  intellectual,  the  emaciated  of  every  grade,  in 
their  pale  agony  listened  anxiously  for  his  coming  footsteps, 
and  his  angelic  countenance  of  cheer.  A  light  gleamed  in 
his  devoted  eyes  which  moved  the  agonized  children  of  men 
to  yearn  to  kiss  his  outstretched  hand. 

One  sultry  summer  evening,  while  the  cholera  was  at  its 
height,  and  men  were  falling  before  its  advance  like  grass 
at  the  scythe  of  the  mower,  the  clergyman  stood  at  his 
front  door  in  the  glare  of  the  sunset,  in  the  act  of  bidding 
his  darling  daughter  farewell  for  the  night.  He  was  just 
going  out  on  his  mission  of  love  to  the  sick.  Marie,  in  her 
pure  white  dress,  with  its  narrow  belt  of  blue,  was  standing 
before  him,  looking  up  into  his  face  with  her  pleading  eyes. 
She  had  been  entreating  him  to  spare  himself  for  only  one 
night.  He  looked  so  pale  and  worn  out. 

"  No,  daughter,  I  must  visit  that  helpless  family  this  even 
ing.  They  are  all  sick,  and  no  one  cares  for  them.  Do  not 
be  alarmed  if  I  stay  away  several  hours.  I  do  not  believe 
I  am  intended  for  the  cholera's  grasp.  I  have  escaped  so 
often,  that  I  trust  God  designs  me  for  a  nurse  until  the  end. 
Good-bye,  my  darling;  remember  me  in  your  prayers  to 
night,  together  with  all  this  suffering  community." 

He  strained  her  to  his  heart,  and  then  pressing  a  kiss  on 
her  pure  forehead,  he  was  gone.  She  watched  his  retiring 
figure  until  he  was  lost  in  the  distance.  Then  she  closed  the 
door,  and  walked  slowly  and  softly  up-stairs  to  her  room. 
She  appeared  to  be  more  delicate  than  usual,  but  the  spiri- 
'  tual  type  was  really  an  improvement  to  her  beauty.  But 
there  was  an  increased  dreaminess,  an  effect  of  far-off 


STOKMCLIFF.  131 

musing  in  her  eyes,  which  suggested  the  idea  of  melancholy. 
Some  severe  disappointment  might  have  swept  its  dark 
wings  across  her  young  life.  Or  it  might  be  that  she  was 
over-anxious  and  alarmed  about  the  spread  of  the  pestilence, 
a%  it  concerned  her  father,  or  perhaps  herself.  Whatever 
the  cause  of  the  faint  shadow  in  her  eyes  might  be,  it  is 
certain  the  unhappy  expression  lingered  long.  When  she 
reached  her  room,  and  sat  gazing  out  of  the  open  window  at 
the  sunset,  the  shadowy  expression  deepened  with  the  fall 
of  night.  Not  more  motionless  were  the  hushed  leaves  of 
the  trees  beneath  her  than  was  Marie  in  her  day-dream.  " 
But  abstracted  as  she  seemed,  and  so  oblivious  of  the  pre 
sent,  it  nevertheless  was  beyond  the  range  of  possibility  for 
one  of  her  temperament  to  be  present  long  at  such  a  grand 
parade  of  the  clouds,  without  awaking  to  a  sense  of  the 
snowy  grandeur  of  the  scene.  She  did  appreciate  at  length, 
and  leaned  forward  over  the  window-sill.  The  vast  volume 
of  white,  foamy  clouds,  which  so  long  had  hovered  over  the 
western  horizon,  with  a  fringe  of  silver  light  extending 
along  their  summits,  now  slowly  rolled  upwards  towards  the 
north,  forming  in  their  course  a  perfect  stairway  of  snow- 
steps,  with  the  silver  fringe  lingering  along  the  western 
edge  of  each  successive  step  as  it  was  unfolded.  At  length 
the  stairway  was  complete  against  a  background  of  blue  sky 
and  golden  sunlight.  Up  such  a  flight  of  vapory  steps 
angels  might  fitly  tread.  Lower  and  lower  dropped  the  god 
of  day,  and  the  blue  sky  dissolved  into  a  vast  ocean  of 
molten  gold,  and  the  snow-steps  slowly  moving  asunder, 
formed  into  purple  likenesses  of  vessels  floating  upon  that 
sea  of  radiance.  Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  sunlight,  and 
darker  seemed  the  purple  ships  passing  away  into  the 
western  ocean.  Deeper  and  lower  fell  the  shadow  over  the 
young  girl's  soul  as  she  strained  her  eyes  towards  the  fading 
pageant;  and  she  prayed  silently,  prayed  eagerly,  that  God 
would  deem  it  wise  to  bear  away  her  soul,  now  and  for  ever, 
upon  a  purple  barque,  gliding  away  upon  that  mystic  ocean. 


132  STORM  CLIFF. 

A  change  had  come  over  the  spirit  of  her  young  dream. 
To  live  seemed  not  so  tempting  as  before.  She,  whose  soul 
\vas  ever  full  of  brilliant  images,  whose  life  seemed  wreathed 
•with  every  enticing  motive  to  hope  and  enjoy,  was  a  chang 
ed  being.  She  was  conscious  of  the  fact.  She  realized  that 
every  gift  of  intellect,  and  every  means  of  sensual  enjoyment, 
might  be  present  to  her,  and  yet  the  heart  be  alone  and 
poverty-stricken  still.  Secretly,  timidly  she  loved,  and  no 
sun  of  hope  had  yet  arisen  upon  that  love.  Would  it  not  be 
better  to  die  now  than  to  live  with  this  hopeless  affection 
clinging  to  her,  and  slowly  eating  away  her  life  ?  Would  it 
be  proper  to  request  of  heaven  peace  and  rest  now  ?  Or  was 
God  offended  that  she  dared  to  hope  even  for  death,  when 
so  many  opportunities  of  serving  Him  still  remained  to  her  ? 
These  questions  rapidly  were  asked  of  her  conscience  by  her 
heart.  And  under  the  influence  of  such  thoughts  she  had 
whispered  her  petition  that  she  might  die  now,  if  it  was  con 
sistent  with  the  will  of  God.  She  believed  that  this  novel, 
engrossing  emotion,'  love,  would  be  the  only  love,  the  only 
outgushing  tide,  of  tenderness  she  would  ever  experience. 
She  was  as  yet  unaware  that  this  is  the  delusion  which 
enfolds  all  lovers,  this  belief  in  the  eternity  of  the  present 
love.  But,  whatever  the  philosophy  of  human  affection  may 
be,  it  was  certain  that  she  was  a  poor,  desolate,  loving  girl, 
full  of  heart-tenderness,  full  of  loveliness  of  person  and 
understanding,  and  worthy  to  be  any  man's  devoted  wife. 
Hopeless  and  desolate  she  leaned  out  of  her  window  in  the 
shadows  of  the  approaching  night. 

Suddenly  she  heard  a  ringing  at  the  street  door  bell,  loud 
and  urgent,  apparently.  She  looked  down  upon  the  door 
steps,  and  saw  her  family  physician  standing  there.  A  shock 
went  to  her  heart.  'What  if  her  father  had  been  taken  down 
with  the  cholera  ?  She  hastened  down  to  open  the  door 
herself. 

"  Is  your  father  in,  Marie  ?"  was  the  first  sentence  that 
greeted  her. 


STOEMCLIFP.  133 

When  informed  of  the  clergyman's  absence,  the  doctor 
expressed  himself  greatly  disappointed.  He  had  just  left 
young  Rutherford,  very  low  with  the  cholera,  and  utterly 
alone.  The  attendance  of  nurses  was  difficult  to  procure. 
Everybody  was  so  alarmed  about  his  own  health.  The 
physician  had  counted  confidently  upon  the  clergyman's 
assistance  in  the  lawyer's  case.  He  was  reputed  to  be  his 
only  friend. 

"  I  thought  it  but  a  mere  act  of  humanity,  any  way,  to 
call  and  endeavor  to  get  some  one  interested  in  the  poor 
fellow.  He  will  likely  die  anyhow.  But  I  am  driven  now 
with  my  calls,  and  must  leave.  Good-bye,  Marie.  Don't  you 
get  sick  through  apprehension  and  excitement.  That  is  very 
apt  to  bring  the  disease  on.  Keep  cool,  my  sweet  girl,  and 
there  is  no  danger  for  you.  Perhaps  your  father  may  return 
in  time  to  help  the  poor  fellow." 

The  kind  doctor  jerked  out  these  words  in  his  peculiar 
nervous  manner,  as  he  hurried  down  the  steps  and  was  gone, 

Marie  retreated  to  the  parlor  sofa,  and  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands.  "  Poor,  dear  fellow,  dying  alone ;  HI  all  his 
matchless  eloquence  and  power,  dying  alone — O  my  God  ! 
shall  I  die  alone — with  no  kind  hand — no  kind  word  ?" 

The  tears  choked  her  utterance.  She  sobbed  convulsively. 
In  a  few  seconds  the  real  woman  asserted  her  independence. 

"  Fear  ?  What  shall  I  fear  ?  Have  they  not  maligned  me 
already  for  nothing — no  cause — no  shadow  of  a  cause  ;  poor 
fellow,- 1  will  go  to  him,  though  ten  worlds  should  scoff  me. 
Where  is  a  woman's  place  in  such  a  pestilence  as  this  ?  I 
have  no  family  to  watch  and  care  for,  unless  father  is  taken 
down.  I  will  go — I  will  go.  O  my  Heavenly  Father ! 
protect  me  from  evil  tongues,  and  strengthen  and  guide  me." 

Her  purpose  was  no  sooner  taken — her  noble,  heroic  pur 
pose — than  she  hastened  to  put  it  in  execution.  Ascending 
to  her  chamber,  she  disguised  herself.  She  filled  her  pocket 
with  little  vials  of  medicine  from  her  father's  medicine-chest. 
Then  she  hurried  down  to  her  pantry,  and  filled  a  basket 


134  STOKMCLIFP. 

with  such  cold  remnants  of  the  last  dinner  as  she  could  find. 
Bread  and  butter,  knife  and  fork,  spoon  and  tumbler,  also 
found  their  place  in  the  basket.  Allowing  herself  no  time 
for  the  sober  second  thought,  she  drew  her  veil  over  her  face, 
and  hastening  to  the  front  door,  rang  the  bell  violently.  The 
maid  hurried  up-stairs  at  the  peremptory  sound  of  the  bell. 

"  Tell  father,  if  he  comes  back  soon;  that  I  shall  be  gone 
two  or  three  hours  on  a  sick  call."  The  door  closed  on  the 
astounded  maid,  and  Marie  was  off  on  her  errand  of  mercy. 

Good  angels  speed  her,  and  guard  her,  for  the  tread  of  the 
pestilence  is  firm  and  rapid,  and  hope  hangs  on  a  thread ! 
Away  down  the  dusky  street  she  rapidly  sped,  fearless  and 
eager,  winged  by  love,  guided  by  instinct,  protected  by 
Heaven.  The  air  of  the  streets  was  foul,  from  the  neglect 
occasioned  by  dread.  The  only  passers  on  the  walks  who 
appeared  careless  of  the  pestilence,  were  the  intoxicated. 
Several  funerals  passed  by  on  the  dimly-lighted  streets — fune 
rals  with  few  mourners  in  the  train.  How  quickly  the  dead, 
in  times  of  cholera,  are  forgotten !  The  hearses  must  hasten 
back  from  the  cemetery  for  other  loads  of  departed  humanity. 
Unmindful  of  the  dead  as  they  passed,  Marie  hurried  on, 
heated  by  the  sultry  summer  air,  flushed  with  exertion,  and 
weary  of  her  heavy  basket.  Her  apparent  unconsciousness 
of  insult,  and  her  rapid  pace,  suggested  the  idea  of  low  life, 
and  no  one  molested  her.  She  rapidly  turned  corners,  she 
availed  herself  of  alleys,  and  soon  reached  the  open  space 
near  the  river.  It  was  now  quite  dark.  Looking  cautiously 
back,  she  saw  that  no  one  had  followed  her.  Then  she  turned 
to  the  river,  in  doubt  of  her  way.  A  little  light  glimmered 
ahead  of  her.  "  She  felt  that  it  came  from  HIS  house.  She 
walked  timidly  now,  and  slower.  She  reached  the  door  and 
faintly  rapped.  No  answer  came.  A  louder  knock  elicited 
no  answer.  She  opened  the  door  cautiously,  and  looked  in. 
There  he  lay  unconscious,  apparently ;  perhaps  he  was  dead. 
She  stole  nearer  to  the  bed  with  his  lamp.  He  was  breathing 
— sleeping. 


STORMCLIFF.  135 

"With  her  veil  pressed  back  from  her  face  with  one  hand, 
and  the  lamp  grasped  in  the  other,  she  knelt  by  his  low 
couch  and  studied  his  features.  How  changed  he  was !  So 
emaciated,  so  pale,  so  spiritual.  The  glorious  forehead  was 
there  in  all  its  developed  power  of  intellect ;  but  the  eyes, 
those  brilliant  stars  that  were  ever  reflected  in  her  pure  soul, 
how  strangely  they  appeared,  closed  and  sunken  !  Those 
lips,  from  which  the  clarion  words  of  eloquence  had  burst 
upon  the  souls  of  men,  how  painfully  compressed  they  were, 
and  white !  Eagerly  bending  over  him,  she  feasted  her  eyes 
on  the  countenance  Avhich  had  enslaved  her  heart.  No  one 
was  near  to  startle  her  maiden  modesty,  no  sound  met  her 
ear  from  the  street ;  she  was  alone  with  the  dying.  Suddenly 
she  started  up  in  terror.  Hark  !  to  that  approaching  sound. 
No ;  it  was  only  the  voice  of  Rutherford's  relative  marking 
the  flight  of  time.  How  solemnly  they  vibrated,  those  heavy 
bell  notes,  on  the  hushed  air.  She  stood  erect,  with  her  veil 
thrown  back  and  the  lamp  in  her  hand,  listening  to  them. 
It  was  the  music  of  the  olden  time.  It  seemed  to  speak  to 
the  very  soul.  Long,  long  before  Marie  was  born  the  melody 
of  the  old  clock  had  touched  the  heart  and  warned  the  soul 
of  death's  approach.  The  young  had  listened  to  the  voice  of 
time,  and  dreamed  it  was  not  meant  for  them.  The  aged 
had  bent  their  white  locks,  and  counted  the  strokes,  and 
sighed :  "  How  fast  time  flies !  "  and  yet  few  of  them  had 
deemed  it  a  warning  to  prepare  for  the  near  spirit-land. 
Regardless  of  men's  indifference,  the  old  monitor  had  gone 
on  in  its  repeated  challenge  to  the  passing  soul  from  year  to 
year,  and  its  calm  face  had  seen  generations  of  the  challenged 
pass  away  and  die.  The  bride  in  her  loveliness,  with  the 
veil  and  the  orange-wreath,  had  paused  to  look  in  that  face, 
and  then  passed  forgetful  on.  The  mother  had  lifted  the 
infant  that  it  might  feast  its  wondering  baby-eyes  on  the 
old  marvel,  and  both  mother  and  child  were  long  since 
sleeping  beneath  the  sods  of  the  valley.  The  soldier  had 
studied  its  face  to  learn  the  sad  hour  of  parting  from  home 


136  STORMCLIFF. 

and  loved  ones  for  the  field  of  death.  Lovers  had  looked  up 
surprised  from  their  low  sweet  vows  and  murmurs  of  bliss, 
and  then  parted  at  the  warning-stroke  of  the  musical  bell, 
often  for  ever.  The  old  clock  had  looked  down  on  smiles  and 
tears,  feuds  and  re-unions,  bridals  and  deaths,  and  these  were 
all  long  since  forgotten  ;  and  still  its  mission  was  not  ended, 
and  its  sentinel  chime  went  on  and  on.  The  mighty  and  the 
fearless  had  succumbed,  the  aged  and  the  venerable  had 
crumbled  into  dust,  and  still  the  old  clock  was  erect  in  life 
and  strength,  and  its  solemn  music  went  on.  Who  knows 
but  the  guardian  angels  in  their  eagerness  had  hovered  low 
and  whispered  to  the  clock:  "Strike  louder,  clearer,  till 
your  notes  arouse  the  slumbering  conscience,  and  prayerful 
eyes  are  raised  to  God.  See  yonder  sleepless  one  tossing 
upon  his  bed,  while  the  distractions  of  the  day  are  gone. 
Chime  louder  and  clearer  in  the  night-watches  your  alarm  of 
the  coming  of  eternity" 

These  were  the  dreamy  musings  of  the  young  watcher 
as  she  stood  listening  to  the  dying  vibrations  of  the  clock, 
with  the  lamplight  full  in  her  serious  face.  The  disguising 
cloak  had  fallen  unheeded  from  her  shoulders  to  the  floor, 
and  she  stood  revealed  in  her  white  dress  with  its  blue 
girdle,  with  an  unveiled  bonnet  only  to  shade  her  blonde 
face.  What  was  her  surprise  to  behold,  upon  looking  down 
again,  two  brilliant  grey  eyes  contemplating  her  loveliness. 
The  noise  of  the  clock  had  awakened  the  sleeper,  and  he 
opened  his  eyes  upon  a  picture  which  seemed  to  realize  his 
belief  in  the  presence  of  guardian  angels.  He  attempted  to 
speak,  but  his  voice,  from  weakness,  faded  away  into  a 
whisper.  She  knelt  beside  him  again,  and  heard  these  feeble 
words:  "I'm  so  glad  you've  come.  I  recognise  you  now. 
You  are  an  angel.  So  lonely — so  helpless  I  have  been,  that  I 
distrusted  God.  You  can  help  me,  and  I  may  yet  live." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Rutherford,  if  you  will  tell  me  what  to  do, 
gladly  will  I  help  you.  I  came  because  father  was  not  at 
home.  The  doctor  said  you  were  utterly  alone,  and  my 


STOEMCLIFF.  137 

% 

conscience  bade  me  come  to  you,  if  only  for  a  moment.  I 
have,  medicines  with  me — there  may  be  something  among 
them  that  you  need.  I  will  read  the  labels  on  them,  and 
you  can  perhaps  tell  what  you  need." 

The  invalid  whispered  assent,  and  producing  the  vials  from 
her  pocket,  she  proceeded  to  read  the  labels.  At  the  con 
clusion  he  indicated  that  nothing  she  had  would  avail  him. 
"  Oh,  what  shall  I — what  can  I  do  ?"  she  exclaimed  hope 
lessly,  laying  the  vials  on  the  floor  beside  her  and  then  turn 
ing  to  him  again.  He  said  faintly  and  almost  exhausted : 
"  Old  Nora  Rudd  told  me  once  that  in  some  seasons  of 
cholera  brandy  has  been  used  successfully,  and  at  other  times 
with  very  bad  effect.  The  doctor  has  positively  forbidden  it. 
He  may  be  right ;  but  oh,  I  want  to  live,  and  something  tells 
me  brandy  freely  taken  will  save  me." 

When  he  had  managed  to  deliver  himself  of  this  opinion, 
his  flickering,  strength  gave  way  and  he  closed  his  eyes. 
He  could  not  answer  her  further  inquiries.  She  feared  to 
experiment  with  the  brandy.  The  impression  had  gone 
abroad  that  it  was  deleterious.  But  finding  him  too  ex 
hausted  to  speak  further,  she  knelt  silently  beside  him,  pon 
dering  the  matter.  Had  she  not  heard  that  sometimes  the 
instinct  of  a  patient  is  his  salvation,  in  despite  of  the  phy 
sician's  advice  ?  The  poor  sufferer  was  so  nearly  gone  it 
could  hardly  make  any  difference.  She  had  better  make  the 
experiment ;  she  had  better  go  in  quest  of  the  brandy  ;  she 
would  go.  She  spoke  to  Rutherford  again.  He  slowly 
unclosed  his  eyes  upon  her.  That  effort  was  his  last.  It 
seemed  to  occasion  him  pain.  Then  he  appeared  to  be 
sleeping.  She  could  hear  him  breathing.  She  arose,  re 
sumed  her  cloak,  drew  her  veil  over  her  face,  and  went 
softly  out  into  the  night.  The  stars  had  come  out  and  were 
shining  clearly  enough  for  her  to  find  her  way.  It  was  a 
long  distance  to  any  apothecary's  shop,  but  she  feared  to 
procure  the  desired  stimulant  at  any  public-house  where  she 
might  meet  with  rudeness.  So  she  resolutely  held  on  her 


138  STORMCLIFF. 

way,  sustained  by  the  reflection  that  she  might  be  the  means 
of  saving  that  dear  life.  "  Grant  it,  kind  Heaven,"  •  she 
said  to  herself;  "  and  then  let  me  die."  But  the  delicate 
girl  had  already  taxed  her  strength  too  far  in  the  oppressive 
heat,  and  by  the  time  she  reached  the  shop  she  was  ready  to 
fall  with  fatigue.  When  she  had  seated  herself  breathless  at 
the  apothecary's,  she  found  it  necessary  to  wait  a  long  time. 
The  place  was  full  of  persons  providing  themselves  with 
drugs,  to  be  in  readiness  for  the  dreaded  symptoms  of  the 
pestilence.  Finally  her  turn  to  be  waited  on  arrived,  and 
impatiently  she  called  for  a  bottle  of  brandy.  The  clerk, 
who  recognised  her,  said :  "  I  suppose  you  want  it  for  a 
cholera  patient,  Miss  Heron  ?"  She  nodded  assent. 

"The  practice  of  treating  the  cholera  without  brandy 
seems  to  have  changed  suddenly.  The  doctor  was  just  in 
here,  and  he  said  several  patients  who  had  used  it  freely, 
were  much  better,  and  he  was  determined  to  recommend 
it  as  an  experiment.  Anything  else,  Miss  ?" 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  said  she,  eagerly  grasping  the  bottle 
and  hurrying  out  of  the  shop.  A  thrill  of  joy  flashed  through 
her  at  his  intelligence.  Rutherford's  instinct  was  correct, 
then.  He  might  be  saved  if  she  should  reach  him  in  time. 
Strengthened  by  this  gleam  of  hope,  she  darted  down  the 
street,  regardless  of  all  passers.  It  never  occurred  to  her 
that  this  excitement  and  fatigue  she  was  passing  through, 
might  predispose  her  own  system  to  an  attack  of  the  cho 
lera.  His  safety — his  one  precious  life — was  all  she  cared 
for  as  she  flew  on.  This  is  almost  exclusively  the  preroga 
tive  of  woman ;  this  utter  abandonment  of  self  to  save  the 
loved  tene.  The  almost  inevitable  censure  of  society  which 
would  ensue,  when  it  was  known  that  she  had  sought  him 
alone  ;  the  danger  to  herself,  of  being  unattended  at  night ; 
the  grim  monster  cholera  stalking  up  and  down  the  doomed 
village  in  search  of  fresh  victims — were  utterly  forgotten  in 
the  zeal  and  devotion  of  her  love  and  charity.  Such  impul 
sive  natures  as  Marie  commit  many  errors  of  judgment,  but 


STORMCLIFF.  139 

oh  !  will  not  the  kind  Father  above  look  on  the  heart ! 
Thrilled,  hopeful,  anxious,  she  passed  on  her  star-lighted 
way.  The  houses  were  rapidly  growing  more  and  more 
scattered,  the  fields  came  at  length  gloomily  into  view,  and 
away  off  towards  the  river,  she  saw  that  light  gleaming  again 
— the  beacon-lamp  of  her  love — her  young,  hopeless,  eager 
love.  Soon  she  reached  the  little  cottage,  and,  panting  and 
trembling,  opened  the  door.  The  same  silence  as  before,  in 
terrupted  only  by  the  distinct  tick,  tick,  tick  of  the  old 
clock.  She  walked  anxiously  to  the  bedside  and  took  up 
the  lamp  again.  He  was  breathing  still.  She  spoke  to  him. 
No  answer.  She  placed  her  little  hand  on  his  shoulder  and 
gave  him  a  gentle  shake.  It  did  not  arouse  him.  Alarmed, 
she  shook  him  violently.  He  opened  his  eyes  and  closed 
them  quickly  again.  The  lids  seemed  to  be  glued  firmly 
down  ;  she  could  not  open  them  again,  with  all  her  efforts  at 
shaking  him.  She  touched  his  lips  ;  their  cold  chilled  her 
fingers.  She  opened  her  basket  at  once  and  drew  out  the 
silver  spoon  ;  she  filled  it  with  brandy,  and  forcing  open  his 
teeth,  poured  it  gradually  into  his  throat.  She  continued  to 
administer  the  stimulant  to  him  in  this  way  until  one-quarter, 
at  least,  of  the  bottle  was  exhausted.  She  knelt  silently 
then  beside  him,  watching  his  faint  breathing  and  whisper 
ing  earnest  prayers  to  God  for  his  recovery.  Finally,  to  her 
inexpressible  delight,  he  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled.  Slowly, 
but  surely,  the  stimulant  effected  her  purpose ;  Rutherford 
whispered  to  her  his  thanks.  At  his  suggestion,  she  gradu 
ally  gave  him  more  brandy ;  it  revived  him.  He  exhibited 
palpable  'signs  of  improvement.  He  talked  aloud ;  he  blessed 
her  for  saving  his  life.  Then  she  gave  him  bread,  soaked  in 
tho  brandy.  In  an  hour  he  was  so  much  improved  that  her 
heart  was  hopeful  and  light.  She  spoke  to  him  in  her  low 
sweet  tones,  and  soothed  him ;  and  under  the  lulling  influ 
ence  of  her  music-voice,  he  at  length  fell  into  a  profound 
slumber.  She  sat,  then,  on  a  chair  and  watched — a  long, 
weary  watch  of  alternate  hope  and  fear.  By-and-by,  a 


140  STORMCLIFF. 

hard  siibstance  rattled  against  the  door.  Tremblingly  she 
arose  and  answered  the  knock.  To  her  amazement,  it  was 
N"ora,  the  reputed  prophetess,  come  to  look  after  the  young 
lawyer.  The  intelligence  of  his  illness  had  reached  "  The 
Glen."  The  old  nurse  appeared  to  be  omnipresent  where 
suffering  and  trouble  and  sickness  were. 


CHAPTER 

THE  clock  chimed  midnight.  The  two  watchers  silently 
counted  the  strokes  as  they  gazed  upon  the  face  of  the 
sleeper.  As  that  musical  vibration  died  away  upon  the 
hushed  air,  Nora  observed  the  lamplight  flicker.  A  slight 
puff  of  air  had  entered  the  open  window.  There  was  to  be 
a  change  from  the  dead  oppressiveness  of  the  sultry  night. 
As  she  called  the  attention  of  the  yQung  girl  to  the  agree 
able  fact,  a  stronger  current  of  air  from  without  caused  the 
flame  to  bend  still  lower  from  the  lamp.  Happy  would  it  be 
if  a  storm  was  approaching,  to  clear  the  air  and  check  the 
destructive  power  of  the  pestilence.  So  many  days  had  wit 
nessed  that  same  dead  glare  of  the  sun — that  same  suffo 
cating  stillness  of  the  atmosphere.  The  old  nurse  bent  over 
the  sleeper,  and  tenderly  studied'  every  lineament  of  his  pale 
face.  The  examination  appeared  to  be  satisfactory  to  her, 
for  she  came  again  to  the  table,  and  sat  down  beside  Marie, 
and  said,  in  a  low  tone  : 

"He  has  changed  for  the  better.  I  think  now  he  will 
recover.  If  he  does,  depend  upon  it,  you,  and  you  alone, 
have  saved  him.  God  sent  you  here,  no  doubt.  But 'I  am 
going  to  take  you  home  before  day  dawns.  You  have  com 
promised  your  character  in  the  eye  of  the  world ;  it  is  a 
hard,  unfeeling  world.  But  we  must  take  things  as  we  find 
them,  and  try  to  reconcile  our  conduct  with  many  prejudices 
of  that  world.  I  hope  to  see  you  safe  at  home  before  day- 


STORMCLIFF.  141 

light,  and  then,  if  you  can  teach  your  maid  discretion,  no 
one  will  be  any  the  wiser  for  this  disinterested  act  of  yours. 
I,  for  one,  shall  ever  be  grateful  to  you  for  saving  this  poor 
young  man.  You  cannot  conceive  how  much  I  am  interested 
in  him.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  another  in  this  town  who 
could  have  called  me  away  from  'The  Glen'  at  this  time. 
Mrs.  Baltimore  is  expected  every  day,  now.  The  place  is  in 
perfect  readiness  for  her  coming,  and  I  am  very  busy  in 
training  the  servants  to  give  her  a  suitable  reception.  But  I 
had  nearly  forgotten  this,"  she  exclaimed,  thrusting  her 
hand  into  her  pocket.  "  It  was  handed  me  on  my  way  here 
to-night,  and  my  anxiety  about  Rutherford  made  me  forget 
it  altogether." 

She  produced  a  letter  postmarked  at  New  York,  and 
addressed  to  herself  in  an  unknown  hand.  She  tore  it  open, 
and  was  soon  engrossed  with  its  contents.  Marie,  excited  as 
she  was  by  the  skilful  nurse's  endorsement  of  her  instrumen 
tality  in  the  probable  salvation  of  Rutherford's  life,-  took 
little  notice  of  old  Nora  while  she  was  reading,  but  passed 
around  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  couch,  and,  kneeling  down, 
returned  God  thanks  for  sending  her  to  that  place.  Then 
she  arose  and  stood  in  contemplation  of  that  pale  countenance 
she  loved  so  well  until  Nora  exclaimed : 

"  Come  here,  Miss  Heron  ;  I  want  you  to  hear  this  letter. 
They  have  all  arrived  in  New  York,  and  Mrs.  Baltimore  is 
sick.  A  companion  of  the  young  widow,  named  Miss 
Angier,  has  written  the  letter  for  her." 

As  Marie  came  around  to  the  table  again,  a  sudden  gust 
of  wind  nearly  extinguished  the  lamp. 

"  Shut  the  window,  if  you  please,  Miss  Heron.  I  trust 
God  is  going  to  send  us  a  storm." 

The  window  was  closed,  and  the  white-robed  girl  sat 
down  beside  the  raven-haired  woman  of  sixty.  Nora,  with 
low  but  distinct  articulation,  read  as  follows : 

"  Well,  here  we  are.     Mrs.  Grace  Baltimore,  Sir  Francis 


142  STORMCLIFF. 

Cleveland,  and  his  daughter;  Miss  Angler — that's  my  humble 
self— and  Mirage,  that's  the  white  horse  his  very  proud  self, 
and  the  Newfoundland  dog,  named  Bounce,  for  the  satis 
factory  reason  that  he  never  does  bounce,  but  stalks  along 
like  a  saintly  Elder.  We're  all  soaked  and  bruised,  and 
pounded  by  Neptune,  and  are  the  most  forlorn  party  of 
adventurers  that  ever  went  down  in  ships  to  do  business 
upon  the  great  waters.  Is  that  Scripture,  or  is  it  not?  for 
it  occurs  to  me  that  my  wits  and  my  memory  are  at  present 
thumped  by  the  sea  into  that  condition  commonly  styled 
1  unsatisfactory.'  We've  walked  the  waters  like  a  thing  of 
life,  and,  as  a  necessary  consequence,  we  several  times  went 
under,  and  wet  our  soles,  which  probably  never  occurred  to 
the  poet.  But,  seriously,  we've  been  shipwrecked.  That  is, 
if  that  wildly  romantic  term  can  be  applied  to  being  tossed 
about  for  weeks  in  a  leaky  vessel,  without  masts  or  sails  or 
rudder  ;  provisions  almost  exhausted,  and  no  dessert ;  sailors 
so  worn  out  that  the  party  of  pleasure  f  on  board  had  to 
work  at  the  pumps,  besides  the  captain  and -mate  being 
washed  overboard — and  other  trifling  casualties  too  numerous 
to  mention. 

"Your  friend,  Mrs.  Grace  Baltimore,  is  the  most  magni 
ficent  woman  I  ever  laid  eyes  on.  Had  she  not  taken  the 
captain's  place,  and  ordered  the  second  mate  to  be  put  in 
irons,  you  would  never  have  enjoyed  the  perplexity  of 
deciphering  this  scrawl.  Everybody  was  disheartened  and 
exhausted.  But  she  appeared  to  revel  in  surmounting  all 
the  difficulties  of  our  terrible  condition.  When  the  second 
mate  attempted  to  lower  the  only  remaining  boat  and  escape 
with  the  ablest  seaman  on  board,  she  drove  him  below 
with  an  old  pistol,  and  by  her  resolute  will  and  her  blazing 
eye,  she  forced  the  sailors  to  put  irons  on  him.  Then 
she  assumed  command  of  the  sinking  ship,  and  by  almost 
superhuman  exertions  the  leak  was  stopped.  She  would  not 
leave  the  deck  for  three  nights,  but  remained  there,  pistol  in 
hand,  keeping  the  men  to  their  work.  Oh,  the  horrors 


STORM  CLIFF.  143 

of  those  three  hopeless  nights  of  howling  winds  and  surging 
sea !  The  man  at  the  helm  declared  that  nothing  held 
him  to  his  wheel  in  his  weakness  and  despair  through 
those  awful  nights  but  the  terrors  and  the  brilliancy  of  those 
black  eyes,  gazing  at  the  foaming  waves,  ahead,  and  that 
sweet  clear  voice  urging  him  on  to  hope  and  home.  Mrs. 
Baltimore  saved  the  vessel;  every  sailor  on  board  assented  to 
the  fact.  At  last  we  fell  in  with  a  ship,  which  gave  us  spars 
and  all  we  needed,  and  here  we  are  in  New  York — sick, 
utterly  worn  out,  and  with  a  feeling  towards  the  noble  ocean 
equal  in  intensity  only  to  a  step-mother's  love. 

"Mrs.  Baltimore  directs  me  to  say  that  our  sojourn  in  the 
city  may  extend  to  four  weeks  yet.  I  send  you  herewith,  her 
directions  what  to  do  with  the  articles  of  taste  and  luxury 
which  will  be  shipped  to  '  The  Glen'  in  a  few  days. 

"  Upon  reading  a  portion  of  this  letter  to  her,  Mrs.  Balti 
more  remarks  that  I  must  have  forgotten  that  I  am  address 
ing  a  lady  of  sixty  in  this  rattle-brain  way.  I  beg  pardon, 
Mrs.  Rudd,  if  I  have  exceeded  the  bounds  of  propriety  in 
writing  to  a  stranger  in  this  style.  But  really  it  is  my  way. 
I  trust  upon  acquaintance  you  will  not  find  me  utterly 
devoid  of  sense. 

"Yours  very  truly, 

"KATE  ANGIBK." 

Marie  had  been  quietly  studying  the  old  woman's  face 
during  the  perusal  of  the  letter.  Perhaps  she  sought  to 
find  in  those  features  some  confirmation  of  the  superstitions 
so  prevalent  regarding  her.  But  perfect  lady-like  repose 
reigned  in  that  aged  countenance.  Even  the  glittering  eyes 
were  subdued  in  expression,  as  they  read  tidings  of  her 
darling's  safety.  Once  only,  when  she  read  of  Mrs.  Balti 
more's  fortitude  and  fearlessness,  she  raised  her  piercing 
eyes  to  Marie,  and  said :  "  That  is  just  like  her.  She  was 
ever  brilliant  on  great  occasions.  But  usually  she  is  reti 
cent,  gentle,  and  lovely."  It  would  be  impossible  to  express 


144  STOBMCLIFF. 

the  fascination  of  that  one  intense  excited  glance  of  the 
reader's  eyes.  It  thrilled  Marie.  It  expressed  another 
truth  clear  as  the  sunlight.  "  7",  too,  am  equal  to  great 
occasions." 

This,  then,  was  the  character  of  the  new-comer,  concern- 
ng  whom  every  one  had  been  talking  for  months.  This 
was  the  rich  widow,  whose  influence  upon  society  was 
expected  to  produce  a  sensation.  The  magnificent  nature 
of  the  improvements  which  had  been  made  at  "  The  Glen" 
had  attracted  instant  attention.  The  tidings  had  travelled 
like  wildfire,  and  on  the  heels  of  the  real  facts  pressed 
closely  exaggeration  and  distortion.  According  to  the  last 
rumors,  her  wealth  was  illimitable,  her  pride  imperial.  She 
had  certainly  written  home  offering  immense  rewards  for 
the  apprehension  of  her  brother's  murderer.  This  last 
impression,  which  Marie  held  in  common  with  the  public, 
as  it  now  passed  again  through  her  mind,  naturally  sug 
gested  the  female  inquiry  : 

"  Mrs.  Baltimore  is  wearing  mourning  for  her  husband 
and  her  brother  Walter,  of  course,  is  she  not  ?  " 

The  question  startled  Nora,  who  was  thinking  of  far 
different  topics  just  at  that  moment.  When  the  name  of 
Nicholas  Traver's  son  met  her  ear,  she  looked  quickly  at 
her  companion  with  a  painful,  anxious  glance.  The  keen 
eyes  of  Marie  detected  terror  in  that  look.  At  least  she 
imagined  that  expression  denoted  a  mind  ill  at  ease.  Why 
should  that  Christian  nurse  exhibit  tokens  of  fear  or 
anxiety ;  or  whatever  the  emotion  was ;  she  certainly  was 
disconcerted  by  the  abrupt  question.  It  spoke  directly  to 
some  powerful  hidden  emotion  in  her  breast.  The  interro 
gatory  was  simple  and  natural  enough.  The  young  widow 
was  coming  home  with  gay  company.  Society  had  heard 
that  she  was  making  immediate  preparations  for  enter 
taining  elegantly  and  sumptuously.  Had  she  put  off 
mourning  for  her  husband?  Or  would  she  continue  to 
wear  it  still  for  her  murdered  brother  ?  Nora  could  have 


STORMCLJFF.  145 

answered  truthfully  and  instantly  that  she  really  did  not 
know  what  the  intention  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  was  regarding 
that  matter,  having  received  no  letter  concerning  her  wear 
ing  apparel.  Why  did  she  not  answer  instantly?  Why 
look  so  startled,  annoyed,  as  if  a  black  wing  had  brushed 
across  their  pleasant  discourse  ?  It  must  have  suggested 
itself  to  her  that  the  young  girl  would  think  it  strange,  this 
unaccountable  embarrassment  of  her  manner,  for  she  answered 
hurriedly  at  length,  and  avoiding  the  more  searching  look 
which  was  now  turned  upon  her. 

"  Of  course — she  will  mourn  deeply  for  her  only  brother. 
Regarding  Mr.  Baltimore,  I  cannot  form  an  opinion.  He  was 
a  very  old  man,  totally  unfitted  for  such  a  child  as  she  was,  and 
the  marriage  was  always  spoken  of  as  a  mere  arrangement  on 
the  part  of  her  father  to  secure  her  a  large  fortune.  I  can 
not  believe  that  Grace  would  wear  mourning  for  him  for  a 
longer  period  than  a  few  weeks,  a  merely  formal  matter.  It 
would  be  totally  unlike  her,  as  she  was  when  I  saw  her  last, 
to  appear  to  mourn  when  she  was  really  glad." 

As  she  concluded,  her  self-possession  seemed  to  return  to 
her,  for  when  she  looked  steadfastly  at  her  listener  again, 
every  trace  of  annoyance  had  disappeared.  She  proceeded 
then  to  speak  cheerfully  of  the  expected  visitors  at  "  The 
Glen,"  and  invited  Marie  to  come  and  inspect  the  property 
in  its  improved  condition,  before  their  arrival,  and  while  she 
remained  its  sole  custodian. 

But  the  curiosity  of  the  clergyman's  daughter  was  not  to 
be  baffled  in  this  way.  Something  in  her  question  had  excit 
ed  the  old  nurse  uncomfortably.  Was  it  connected  with  the 
name  of  Mr.  Baltimore,  or  that  of  the  murdered  young  man  ? 
Quickly  the  old  rumor  of  Nora's  acquaintance  with  the  de 
tails  of  the  mysterious  marriage,  returned  to  her  recollection. 
It  might  bear  some  relation  to  that  strange  affair,  her  ques 
tion  about  the  mourning.  But  then,  too,  there  was  the  mur 
der  and  Nora's  evidence.  She  recollected  that  a  lawyer  had 
said  to  her  father,  that  upon  a  careful  revision  and  study  of 

7 


146  STORMCLrFF. 

the  evidence,  he  had  formed  a  private  opinion  of  his  own, 
that  Nora  must  have  been  the  first  person  who  arrived  at  the 
scene  of  the  murder  after  it  was  consummated,  and  that  if 
she  had  not  actually  seen  the  assassin,  she  must  have  missed 
him  by  a  hair's  breadth  only.  Could  it  be  possible  that  the 
old  woman  had  a  secret  consciousness,  a  mysterious  connec 
tion  with  the  terrible  affair,  that  startled  her,  embarrassed 
her,  when  the  subject  was  even  indirectly  alluded  to  ?  This 
question  became  uppermost  in  Marie's  mind.  It  returned  to 
her  repeatedly  during  that  night  watch,  as  she  sat  and  listen 
ed  to  Nora's  conversation ;  and  afterwards  she  never  crossed 
the  old  nurse's  path  without  that  question  arising  and  excit 
ing  her  suspicion.  She  was  impressed  with  the  belief  that 
she  knew  or  suspected  something  which  she  had  not  revealed 
upon  the  trial  of  young  Waters.  As  she  could  not  fail  to 
realize  the  aged  woman's  exemplary  Christianity  and  charity, 
and  as  her  intellect  appreciated  the  intelligence  and  superi 
ority  of  her  character,  the  longer  she  conversed  with  her,  the 
more  distressed  did  she  feel  that  this  secret  and  painful  emo 
tion  should  lurk  in  Nora's  breast,  to  be  aroused  by  the  faint 
est  touch  of  any  passing  hand.  It  occurred  to  her,  also,  as 
she  alternately  listened  to  her  companion's  voice  and  the  ris 
ing  sounds  of  the  approaching  midnight  storm,  that  the 
helpless  sleeper  on  the  bed  was  possessed  of  a  painful  secret, 
too — the  mystery  of  the  figure  on  the  cliff  in  her  own  sketch. 
"Would  that  she  might  fathom  both,  and  be  permitted  to  ren 
der  aid  and  comfort  to  the  being  she  loved,  and  to  his  aged 
friend. 

The  windows  of  the  little  office  shook  now  in  the  violent 
rush  of  the  wind.  The  stars  were  shrouded,  and  impenetra 
ble  darkness  hovered  over  the  silent  village.  Slowly  and 
solemnly  the  storm-clouds  had  moved  to  their  places  at  the 
signal  of  God.  His  command  had  gone  forth,  and  in  the 
scowl  of  the  heavens  the  death-angel  spread  his  wings  and 
hastened  away.  The  pestilence  should  scourge  the  children 
of  men  no  longer.  Hush  I  the  welcome  rain  is  pattering 


STORMCLIFF.  147 

upon  the  roof;  its  tiny,  tinkling  feet  fall  on  the  leaves,  and 
the  parched  earth  drinks  eagerly  in  the  darkness.  The  mer 
ciful  shower  increases  in  strength,  the  sounds  of  its  musical 
dashing  reach  the  ears  of  the  poor  sufferers  on  their  beds, 
and  their  faithful  watchers  walk  eagerly  to  the  windows  to 
look  out.  No  external  object  meets  their  eyes  pressed  closely 
to  the  glass.  Darkness  reigns,  and  the  torrents  of  heaven 
pour  wildly,  without  stint,  upon  the  eager,  thirsty  ground. 
Crash  !  A  blinding  flash  illumined  every  watchful  face,  and 
aroused  the  sleepers.  The  lightning  had  fallen  somewhere  in 
the  village.  Something  was  shattered  and  ruined.  Marie 
was  standing  close  to  the  window,  and  was  blinded  for  an 
instant  by  the  intense  brilliancy  of  the  falling  bolt. 

"  Where  did  it  strike  ?"  she  tremblingly  asked.  "  I  thought 
it  had  fallen  upon  ws,  for  an  instant." 

The  old  woman,  who  was  seated  by  Rutherford  at  the  mo 
ment  he  was  awakened  by  the  crash,  replied  :  "  It  seemed 
to  be  at  the  far  end  of  the  town.  It  must  have  been  on  the 
property  of  Nicholas  Traver.  He  is  visited  oftener  in  that 
way  than  any  one  I  know  of.  It  is  a  bad  sign,  too,  they  say, 
when  the  warning  is  unheeded."  The  last  sentence  was  mut 
tered,  but  the  invalid  heard  it. 

"  What  is  the  warning  ?"  he  inquired  feebly.  Marie,  hear 
ing  that  voice  again,  came  close  to  the  bed  to  listen  also. 

The  nurse,  in  a  distinct  and  reverential  tone,  said  slowly ; 

"  I  have  heard,  as  long  ago  as  when  I  was  a  girl,  and  my 
mother  told  me  that  saying  herself.  She  was  reputed  to  be 
an  uncommonly  pious  woman,  and  she  possessed  the  gift  of 
telling  many  things  that  would  happen  in  the  future.  Some 
people  said  it  was  mere  chance  that  her  impressions  of  the 
future  came  true.  Whether  that  was  true  or  not,  can  make 
no  difference.  She  acted  always  from  conviction,  and  she 
prayed  constantly,  earnestly,  to  her  Saviour  to  guide  her  into 
the  way  of  all  truth.  My  mother  has  said,  and  I  have  heard 
her,  that  all  people  who  pray  a  brief  ejaculatory  prayer  to 
God  when  they  hear  a  clock  strike,  have  as  many  additional 


148  STOKMCLIFF. 

guardian  angels  sent  to  help  them  as  the  number  of  times 
the  clock  strikes.  I  have  heard  her  say,  and  she  believed  it, 
too,  that  any  one  who  scoffed  at  the  immortality  of  the  soul 
when  a  funeral  passed  by,  at  that  instant  was  deserted  by  one 
guardian  angel.  And  she  told  me  this,  too,  and  I  shall  never 
forget  it.  It  rings  in  my  ears  like  a  voice  of  the  present : 
'  Whosoever  dares  refuse  to  make  the  restitution  which  con 
science  orders  when  the  lightning  falls  and  terrifies,  shall  not 
leave  one  atom  of  their  body  on  earth  to  be  buried.'" 

The  listeners  were  startled  by  a  noiseless  sheet  of  light 
ning  which  gave  to  the  solemn  face  of  the  prophetess  a  ghastly 
hue.  The  far-off  report  of  thunder  came  at  length  in  a 
low  rumbling  sound,  which  jarred  the  little  tenement  upon 
its  foundations.  A  sensation  of  awe  thrilled  Marie,  and  she 
pressed  instinctively  to  Nora's  side  for  protection.  Her 
slight  movement  was  detected,  and  the  prophetess,  placing 
her  hand  kindly  on  the  fair  girl's  arm,  said  humbly : 

"  I  am  no  protection,  sweet  girl.  We  are  all  in  the  hollow 
of  a  kind  Father's  hand.  Love  Him,  trust  Him  alone  for 
safety.  One  loving  word  of  prayer  and  faith  is  a  stronger 
shield  from  every  storm  of  life  than  all  earth's  congregated 
humanity  can  ever  be.  Aye  !  stronger  than  all  human  skill 
and  devices,  all  sciences,  and  all  arts  of  men.  I  have  seen 
life-long  schemers,  men  and  women,  who  understood  well 
every  passion  of  the  human  heart  upon  which  they  played. 
I  have  seen  them  foiled  at  last,  when  success  seemed  just 
within  their  grasp,  by  one  simple,  fervent  prayer  of  an  honest 
heart.  Turn  to  God  in  every  danger  and  every  trouble,  and 
let  the  sneers  and  the  satire  of  men  pass  unheeded  by." 

"  Nora,  will  I  live  ?  "  murmured  the  faint  voice  of  Ruther 
ford  as  he  looked  up  at  his  two  watchers. 

"As  far  as  God  has  given  me  insight  into  the  symptoms 
of  this  pestilence,  I  believe  you  will.  If  you  continue  as  you 
are  now,  no  worse  even  for  two  hours  more,  you  will 
certainly  recover.  You  should  have  sent  for  me  at  once. 
Nothing  that  lives  would  have  kept  me  away  from  you. 


STORMOLIFF.  149 

And  now  you  must  thank  this  dear  girl  for  saving  your  life. 
Without  the  stimulant  she  gave  you,  you  never  could  have 
revived. " 

"  Oh  !  I  am  grateful — so  grateful !  Miss  Heron,  and  her 
father,  and  you  have  been  assigned  to  cheer  me  hi  my  lonely 
life.  It  is  enough — it  is  enough.  With  such  friends  I  can 
face  life.  I  can  wring  from  shame,  from  society,  the  con 
fession  that  I  at  least  am  honorable,  am  honest,  am  a  true 
man. " 

The  effort  exhausted  him,  and  he  ceased.  The  plaintive 
tones  of  the  sufferer  touched  Nora's  heart.  She  bent  over 
him,  smoothed  tenderly  his  forehead  with  her  hand,  and 
brushed  back  his  hair.  The  magnetism  of  her  touch  seemed 
to  bring  him  relief,  for  soon  he  fell  asleep  again.  The 
powerful  stimulant  was  acting  favorably  upon  his  exhausted 
system.  "  Poor,  poor  fellow,"  she  murmured.  "  A  stout, 
honest  heart,  but  such  a  weary,  heavy  load  of  shame  to  bear. 
Oh  !  Miss  Heron,  it  is  so  hard  to  possess  a  proud,  sensitive 
nature,  and  yet  have  to  endure  the  scorn  and  aversion  of 
society ;  to  be  personally  innocent,  pure  in  purpose  and 
character,  and  yet  to  be  spurned  as  if  a  pestilence  came  from 
your  very  touch.  But  I  tell  you,"  she  added,  raising  her 
voice,  excited  by  her  subject,  "he  will  live  to  be  recognised, 
to  be  honored  by  those  who  turn  their  backs  upon  him  now. 
Look  at  that  forehead ;  power  slumbers  there,  and  will.  He 
will  force  a  path  of  honor  for  himself,  and  that  is  worth  a 
thousand  inherited  titles  and  honors.  You  and  your  father, 
and  my  own  clergyman,  who  have  so  generously  befriended 
him,  will  dwell  first  and  uppermost  in  his  regard,  when  his 
regard  becomes  an  honor,  as  it  will  be ;  mark  my  words. 
That  pool1,  helpless  sleeper  will  cleave  his  way  through 
obstacles  like  a  young  giant.  The  finger  of  shame  will 
almost  break  his  heart ;  but  you,  society,  the  world,  will 
never  see  its  lonely  hidden  agony.  He  will  come  forth  from 
his  trials  and  his  midnight  sorrows  into  the  light  of  day  with 
a  calm,. resolute  face,  aud  the  world  will  never  know  how 


150  STOBMCLIFF. 

desperately  he  has  wrestled  alone  with  despair.  And  he 
will  triumph  at  last — mark  my  words.  They  are  the  predic 
tion  of  one  who  has  studied  men  and  character  for  more 
than  twice  your  lifetime." 

She  spoke  earnestly,  tremulously,  as  if  her  whole  soul  was 
bound  up  in  that  sleeper.  Every  impressive  word  went  to 
the  young  girl's  heart.  Alas !  that  heart  had  believed  and 
predicted  all  this  in  its  own  secret  communings.  But  she 
loved  him  now  with  all  the  intensity  of  her  nature,  for  what 
he  was,  noble  and  suffering,  not  for  what  he  would  be.  It 
was  while  he  was  trampled  down  and  his  heart  was  bleeding 
that  she  yearned  to  soothe  him,  to  comfort  him,  to  tell  him 
of  a  heart  that  cherished  him  every  waking  hour,  and 
followed  his  image  through  the  golden  gate  of  dreams. 
Therefore  she  answered  the  old  nurse  guardedly,  lest  her 
secret  should  be  revealed,  and  endeavored  to  ascribe  her 
maiden  visit,  her  impulsive  act  of  love,  to  purely  charitable 
motives.  Did  she  delude  herself  with  the  thought  that  those 
experienced  eyes  could  not  read  the  language  of  her  open 
face?  Then  did  she  grievously  err,  for  Nora  was  one  of 
those  strange  minds  that  are  suddenly  and  correctly  im 
pressed  by  those  who  cross  their  path.  She  knew  that  the 
clergyman's  daughter  loved,  and  therefore  did  she  hasten,  as 
soon  as  the  patient's  condition  appeared  to  authorize  it,  to 
induce  her  to  resume  her  disguise  and  return  to  her  home. 
She  wished  to  save  her  from  the  keen  slander  of  the  world. 
She  admired  her  self-sacrifice  in  coming  to  save  Rutherford. 
Now  it  was  necessary  to  save  her. 

When  the  rain  finally  ceased  and  the  dawn  was  near,  the 
two  stole  quietly  out  into  the  dark  street  and  left  the  sleeper 
alone. 


STOKMCLIFF.  151 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  moon  rose  slowly  and  clear  upon  the  hushed  town. 
The  motionless  leaves  of  the  trees  at  length  were  bathed  in 
the  silver  radiance  as  the  serene  watcher  of  the  night  sailed 
upward  to  its  post.  The  increasing  light  poured  into  the 
faces  of  those  who  lingered  at  the  parlor  windows,  or  were 
clustered  in  groups  upon  the  balconies.  The  shops  were 
closed.  The  hum  of  business  had  died  away,  and  the  weary 
were  sleeping.  The  promise,  however,  of  a  brilliant  night 
detained  many  lovers  of  the  beautiful  away  from  their  beds. 
The  balmy  summer  air,  the  fragrance  of  flowers  breathing 
forth  upon  the  night,  and  the  gentle  beauty  of  the  full  moon, 
were  more  alluring  than  the  silence  and  retirement  of  the 
softest  couch.  Hence  they  lingered,  enjoying  the  scene,  and 
listening  to  the  occasional  sounds  of  melody  which  distantly 
and  faintly  trembled  upon  the  air.  The  distant  thrumming 
of  a  guitar  was  heard  at  intervals,  and  then  the  sweeter  and 
prolonged  sound  of  a  flute  fluttered  gently  under  the 
drooping  branches.  Then  a  sound  of  the  busy  world  boomed 
away  over  the  waters.  A  heavy  steamboat-bell  was  ringing 
the  tidings  of  its  night  approach.  The  belated  river-boat 
was  nearing  the  dock  to  land  passengers.  That  sound  died 
away,  and  all  was  hushed  again  save  the  trembling  notes  of 
the  flute.  Hark !  the  first  heavy  stroke  of  the  town-clock  in 
the  church-tower  begins  to  count  the  hour  of  night.  No !  it 
is  too  fast,  too  violent,  that  sound  of  the  church-bell.  Hush ! 
beating  hearts!  What  means  that  far-off  cry  of  distress, 
struggling  up  against  the  air?  Another  and  louder  cry 
burst  clear  and  distinct  upon  the  night,  "  Fire !  Fire !  Fire  ! " 
Oh,  merciful  God !  The  town  is  parched  with  the  long 
drought,  and  the  streams  which  supply  the  hydrants  are  dry. 
The  river  is  too  far  off  for  help.  Fly,  brave  hearts  and 
willing  arms,  to  the  dreadful  .spot,  for  the  fierce  grapple  with 
sweeping  fire  !  The  whole  town  is  in  imminent  peril. 

Away  over  the  houses  and  the  streets  comes  the  din  of 


152  STORMCLIFF. 

shouting  voices,  the  rattle  of  the  fire-engines,  and  the  blended 
booming  of  the  alarm-bells.  None  but  the  sick  lingor  in  bed 
for  the  dreadful  cry  reaches  all  hearts.  The  drought  lias 
made  every  house  a  tinder-box  for  destruction  in  the  jaws  of 
fire.  Away!  away!  struggle  and  battle  with  the  raging 
element  before  it  is  too  late. 

"At  the  first  notes  of  the  discordant  din,"  Rutherford 
sprang  to  his  feet.  Weeks  ago  he  had  recovered  from  the 
cholera.  He  had  just  now  retired  to  bed,  weary  and  over 
worked  by  his  devotion  to  his  literary  manuscripts.  The 
alarm-bells  waked  him,  and  hurrying  on  his  clothes,  he  dnshed 
out  into  the  street,  with  the  eagerness  of  a  generous  soul,  to 
aid  the  suffering.  The  glare1  upon  the  sky  was  his  beacon, 
and  he  ran  on.  The  fire  had  evidently  broken  out  in  the 
most  densely  populated  portion  of  the  town,  and  at  the 
street  most  remote  from  water.  Few  had  yet  hurried  out 
upon  the  streets,  and  he  passed  an  engine-house  where  a 
hnndful  of  firemen  were  struggling  hard  to  drag  their 
machine  out  upon  the  pavement.  When  they  called  to  him 
he  turned  back,  and  placing  his  powerful  shoulder  to  the 
wheel,  aided  them  to  roll  the  engine  out.  Two  other  passers 
came  to  their  assistance,  and,  grasping  the  ropes,  they  all 
started  off  for  the  fire  with  shouts  and  yells.  On  their  way 
they  were  joined  by  others  of  the  fire  company,  and 
presently  they  turned  into  the  main  street,  and  the  terrible 
conflagration  burst  upon  their  view.  They  were  the  first 
company  upon  the  ground,  and  their  task  was  formidable 
indeed.  The  flames  had  travelled  rapidly  upon  the  frame 
buildings,  dry  and  blistered  by  the  drought,  and  already 
four  hundred  feet  of  houses  were  one  mass  of  fierce  relent 
less  fire,  leaping,  tossing  onward,  and  spreading  over  the 
street  a  furnace-heat  that  was  intolerable  by  human  life  for 
one  minute.  Resolutely  they  planted  the  engine  beyond  the 
fire,  where  they  could  play  upon  the  houses  as  yet  untouched 
by  the  destroyer,  and  drench  them  sufficiently  to  stay  its 
march.  They  labored  faithfully  for  a  few  minutes  at  the 


STOKAICLIFF.  153 

brakes,  but  the  cistern  which  supplied  the  water  speedily 
was  exhausted,  and  the  mad  flames  passed  over  the  spot  of 
their  useless  labor.  Alas!  the  blazing  cinders  were  lifted  by 
the  wind  and  scattered  thousands  of  feet  on  every  side,  and 
fresh  fires  burst  out  in  every  direction.  The  town  seemed 
doomed  to  utter  destruction.  Wildly  arose  the  yells  of  other 
brave  and  hurrying  companies,  and  as  they  dashed  in  upon 
the  scene  they  wheeled  their  engines  into  favorable  spots  to 
fight  the  fire,  and  madly  fell  upon  their  brakes  to  hurl  the 
insufficient  supplies  of  water  upon  the  flames.  The  crackling 
and  roaring  of  the  fire,  the  crash  of  falling  timbers,  the  yells 
of  the  despairing  as  they  clung  to  the  upper  windows  of 
dwellings  which  were  wreathed  below  in  smoke  and  blaze 
bursting  outward,  the  screams  of  mothers  and  children 
parted  in  terror — all,  all  served  only  to  .nerve  the  noble 
firemen  to  renewed  exertions.  They  planted  ladders,  and, 
ascending  through  smoke  and  fire,  returned  with  burdens  of 
human  life — infants,  the  sick,  the  helpless — and  called  to  eacL 
other  encouragingly,  and  yelled  their  joy  at  every  new  lescue. 
But  the  flames  rushed  on,  blazing,  crackling,  roaring,  spread 
ing  wildly,  mounting  upward,  sweeping  over  the  doomed 
town,  pouring  destruction  in  torrents  of  quivering  heat  and 
blinding  smoke  upon  new  victims,  and  blanching  the 
thousands  of  faces  which  fell  backward  at  the  approaching 
demon  of  fire. 

At  last,  finding  that  water  could  not  be  had  to  check  the 
conflagration,  the  almost  exhausted  firemen,  and  the  citizens 
who  dashed  recklessly  in  to  their  assistance,  fell  upon  the 
untouched  buildings  near  with  axe  and  sledge,  and  wrenching 
the  boards  and  windows  and  doors  away,  secured  grappling- 
places  for  the  iron  hooks,  attached  to  poles  and  ropes,  with 
which  the  united  strength  of  hundreds  of  arms  hurled  the 
ponderous  frames  and  timbers  of  the  houses  to  the  ground. 
Vain,  useless  struggles  of  human  skill  and  will  and  endur 
ance  to  avert  the  rushing  flames  !  The  blazing  monster 
leaped  these  openings  and  fiercely  roared  on  his  relentless  way. 

7* 


154  STOKMCLIFF. 

Near  the  centre  of  the  great  circle  which  the  conflagration 
described  among  the  houses  and  trees  of  the  ill-fated  town, 
Marie  Heron  broke  through  the  volumes  of  smoke  and  flame 
which  enveloped  her  father's  dwelling,  and  emerged  safely 
into  the  street.  She  was  nearly  suffocated  by  the  smoke 
which  had  awakened  her,  and  she  stood  for  a  moment  dizzy 
and  bewildered  on  the  pavement  in  her  night  dress.  Then, 
as  recollection  returned,  she  screamed  piteously :  "  My  father, 
my  poor  sick  father,  is  lost;  for  God's  sake,  save  him !  "  Her 
cry  was  unheeded.  Everybody  near  was  intent  upon  his 
own  salvation  or  that  of  his  family,  or  busy  in  the  less 
commendable  effort  of  saving  his  personal  property.  The 
dwelling  of  the  clergyman  was  nearly  concealed  in  the 
volumes  of  smoke.  No  one  was  likely  to  hazard  personal 
safety  in  that  doomed  mansion.  She  raised  her  hands  to 
God :  "  Save  my  father — my  dear  father."  The  tread  of 
four  hideous  figures  was  close  behind  her.  Begrimed  with 
smoke  and  cinders  beyond  all  possibility  of  recognition,  with 
hair  burnt  off  in  tufts,  and  wrapped  in  blankets  belted  around 
their  waists  to  protect  them  from  the  fire,  four  men  were 
passing  and  heard  her  cry.  They  looked  like  monsters ;  but 
they  wore  under  those  half-burnt  blankets  the  souls  of  heroes. 
Like  brothers  those  four  men  had  stood  by  each  other 
through  the  horrors  of  that  street.  The  few  who  had 
followed  their  leading  cry  at  first  had  gradually  fallen  away 
from  their  support,  intimidated  and  half-suffocated  by  the 
smoke.  They  had  shouted  then,  when  they  discovered  that 
they  were  forsaken  by  all  through  fear :  "  We  four  will  stand 
by  each  other  till  the  last  gasp."  They  dashed  through 
flame  and  smoke — mounted  tottering  staircases — burst  ope^i 
doors  already  on  fire,  and  seizing  the  helpless  and  the  sleeping, 
bore  them  out  to  places  of  safety.  Burning  stairs  had  fallen 
under  their  weight,  timbers  had  careened  and  fallen  near 
them,  hurling  showers  of  sparks  arid  ashes  over  them — but 
they  had  escaped  serious  injury  thus  far.  Mothers  had 
received  their  children  from  their  brawny  arms,  and  blessed 


STOKMCLIFF.  155 

them  with  tears  and  cries  of  joy ;  invalids  were  borne  safely 
from  flame-wreathed  buildings  and  placed  carefully  on  the 
grass  in  safety ;  and  then  the  four  had  hastened  on  to  new- 
scenes  of  danger  and  triumph.  A  crowd  of  men  and  women 
were  following  them  at  a  safe  distance,  and  cheering  them 
with  exultant  yells  of  joy  and  approbation  at  every  new  feat 
of  daring.  They  defied  the  horrors  of  a  fire-death,  and  they 
were  saved.  They  disappeared  sometimes  so  long  in  the 
blazing  and  dusky  shroud,  that  they  were  believed  certainly 
to  have  fallen  victims.  But  no !  they  emerged  at  last,  and 
generally  with  a  struggling  or  half-suffocated  burden  of 
human  life. 

These  hideous  and  unknown  heroes  had  arrived  in  time  to 
hear  the  piteous  cry  of  the  clergyman's  daughter.  One  of 
them  asked,  in  a  voice  that  made  her  start :  "  Which  is  the 
room — tell  us  quick?"  She  indicated  the  apartment  where 
her  sick  father  lay.  With  a  yell,  the  four  dusky  figures 
darted  up  the  steps  in  rivalry  and  entered  the  house.  They 
were  instantly  hidden  in  blinding  volumes  of  smoke. 

Marie  fled  away  from  the  spot,  as,  with  a  heavy  crash,  one 
of  the  floors  fell,  and  millions  of  sparks  burst  out  upon  the 
street.  Beyond  the  reach  of  the  intolerable  heat,  she  paused 
and  gazed  with  agony  upon  the  half-hidden  house.  Alas! 
that  funeral  pile  held  all  she  valued  upon  earth,  her  father 
and  her  heart's  idol,  Rutherford.  Yes !  that  voice  had  been 
recognised.  He  was  one  of  the  heroic  four.  Poor,  lonely 
girl!  Thy  young  life  is  darkened.  Thine  idols  are  there 
shrivelling  to  death  in  agony.  Why  did  God  create  thee 
with  capabilities  of  intense  affection,  only  to  blast  them  in 
fire  !  She  fell  fainting  to  the  earth,  with  the  crowd  gathering 
about  her.  A  kind  woman  flung  a  shawl  over  her  night 
dress,  and  then  knelt  beside  her,  calling  for  water  to  restore 
her.  When  the  grateful  fluid  at  last  arrived  and  was  poured 
upon  her  head,  she  revived,  and  asked: 

"  What  is  that  shout  ?  " 

Again  and  again  the  wild  music  of  joy  pealed  forth  in 


156  STORMCLIFF. 

cheers  of  that  delighted  crowd.  And  a  voice  explained  to 
her  that  her  father  had  been  rescued,  dragged  out  of  a  back 
•window  of  his  house,  and  was  now  being  carried  to  her  side. 
But  alas!  one  of  the  four  heroes  had  been  crushed  by  falling 
timber,  and  left  in  the  fire  to  perish.  The  suddenly  lighted 
Limp  of  hope  was  dashed  to  the  earth,  and  with  a  quick 
flutter  at  the  heart,  she  fell  back  again  insensible  in  the 
woman's  arms. 

But  the  mad  element,  mocking  at  sorrow  and  ruin,  swept 
fearfully  on.  The  whole  street  where  the  clergyman  and 
his  daughter  were  lying  was  illuminated  by  a  glare  as  of 
daylight.  Every  face  of  the  thronging  multitude  was 
revealed,  and  thousands  of  anxious  faces  were  watching  as 
one  m:\ntherecklessheroismof  the  three  remaining  rescuers, 
who  still  entered  the  falling  tenements  and  courted  death. 
The  fire  in  its  onward  fury  had  now  reached  a  point  near  the 
court-house  and  the  jail.  Fortunately  these  buildings  stood 
detached  from  the  houses  of  the  street.  A  pool  of  foul  water 
was  close  at  hand,  and  by  strenuous  exertions  it  might  be 
conducted  into  one  of  the  engines,  and  the  fire  be  stayed  at 
this  open  space.  But  the  leathern  hose  had  been  burnt  off, 
and  no  means  remained  of  supplying  the  engine  save  by  the 
use  of  buckets  and  pails  passed  from  hand  to  hand.  A  few 
of  the  more  energetic  citizens  realized  the  vital  importance 
of  checking  the  progress  of  the  flames  at  this  point,  and 
rallied  at  once  to  the  assistance  of  the  exhausted  firemen  ; 
some  of  whom  had  worked  so  long  at  the  brakes,  as  the 
engines  moved  from  station  to  station,  that  they  had  fallen 
at  full  length  upon  the  ground,  utterly  unable  to  move  an 
arm.  A  short  line  of  bucket-passers  was  formed,  but  wholly 
inadequate  to  reach  to  the  pool  of  water.  Two  or  three 
men  ran  along  the  front  of  the  crowded  spectators  who  lined 
one  side  of  the  street,  and  by  urgent  appeals  sought  to  obtain 
volunteers  to  take  the  places  of  the  worn-out  firemen.  Some 
generous  men  and  boys  of  different  grades  in  society  broke 
from  the  crowd  and  responded  to  the  call.  But  they  were  a 


STOKXI  CLIFF.  157 

handful.  In  vain  did  the  summoners  plead  for  more  volun 
teers.  The  bulk  of  the  spectators,  deeming  that  they 
possessed  no  particular  personal  interest  in  the  matter  of 
suppressing  the  fire,  so  far  away  from  their  own  dwellings, 
doggedly  maintained  their  attitude  and  looked  on.  In  vain 
were  they  assured  that  the  town  could  be  saved  only  at  this 
critical  point.  They  held  their  idle  hands  in  their  pockets, 
and  made  no  move.  But  the  indomitable  summoners  held 
persistently  on,  occasionally  shaming  a.  volunteer  to  their 
assistance.  It  appeared  at  length  that  the  force  of  volun 
teers  requisite  could  not  be  secured,  and  the  town  must  be 
burned  utterly. 

At  this  juncture  an  interruption  occurred  which  turned 
many  eyes  from  the  fire  spectacle.  Away  down  the  burning 
street  a  commotion  was  perceptible.  The  confusion  seemed 
to  increase,  and  the  distant  murmurs  of  an  excited  crowd 
were  audible.  Presently  the  object  of  interest  came  into 
view,  flying  like  the  wind  along  the  brilliant  line  of  burning 
buildings.  A  snow-white  steed,  with  flowing  mane  and  tail, 
was  tearing  along,  frightened  by  the  glare  of  the  flames  and 
the  crackling  of  the  burning  wood.  Madly  he  dashed  along 
up  the  street,  shying  at  fallen  timbers,  and  then  plunging 
ahead  at  a  pace  which  threatened  to  unseat  the  lady  who 
rode  him.  Erect,  and  apparently  as  firm  as  a  rock,  was 
seated  the  rider,  with  steady  hand  and  roving  eye  guiding 
the  flight  she  could  not  control.  A  long  black  feather  waved 
back  from  her  riding-cap,  and  her  dark  habit  contrasted 
strangely  with  the  snow-white  color  of  her  steed  in  the  full 
blaze  of  the  fire  wall.  Just  as  she  reached  the  court-house 
she  succeeded  in  gaining  command  again  of  her  horse.  With 
a  sudden  jerk  she  wheeled  him  around,  facing  the  blazing 
buildings.  He  flung  his  forefeet  once  high  in  air ;  then,  at 
the  smart  application  of  her  whip,  he  dropped  his  hoofs  to 
earth,  and  stood  panting  and  trembling  and  gazing  with 
dilated  eye  upon  the  flames.  Having  conquered  him  she 
turned  a  backward  look  for  her  attendants.  They  were 


158  STORMCLIFF. 

slowly  and  cautiously  coming  along  the  wall  of  fire,  a  caval 
cade  of  four,  well  mounted — two  young  ladies  and  two  men 
— one  evidently  a  groom  from  his  dress.  When  the  groom 
had  gradually  accustomed  his  horse  to  the  stj-ange  sounds 
and  glare  of  the  fire,  he  pushed  rapidly  ahead  after  his 
mistress,  leaving  the  elderly  gentleman  to  look  after  the 
young  ladies. 

By  the  time  the  servant  had  overtaken  his  mistress,  she 
appeared  to  have  fully  taken  in  a  realization  of  the  exigencies 
of  the  position.  She  had  listened  to  the  appeals  for  volun 
teers,  and,  glancing  along  the  line  of  the  crowd,  saw  how  few 
responses  were  given.  Her  beautiful  lip  curled  with  contempt. 
She  wheeled  her  horse  towards  her  approaching  companions 
and  urged  him  down  the  street.  Arriving  at  a  point  where 
the  spectators  were  principally  men,  she  reined  in  her  steed 
and  proceeded  to  appeal  to  them  herself.  Clear  and 
emphatic  as  a  silver  trumpet  rang  her  voice  in  the  confusion. 

"I  have  just  returned  to  my  native  town,  after  an  absence 
of  six  years  in  Europe.  I  have  been  in  the  habit  of  boasting 
to  them  there  Avhat  a  brave  and  generous  people  my  country 
men  were.  Yonder  comes  an  English  gentleman,  my  guest, 
who  will  return  to  England  and  tell  everything  just  as  he 
sees  it  to-night.  He  will  say  that  Americans  as  a  class  are 
the  greatest  cowards  that  ever  walked ;  that  he  saw  a  town 
burning  up,  women  and  children  running  half-naked  into  the 
streets,  and  that  the  fire  could  be  stopped ;  but  that  the  men — 
great,  brawny,  healthy  men — were  such  selfish,  low-spirited, 
cowardly  dogs,  that  they  would  not  lend  a  helping  hand  for 
one  half-hour  to  save  property  and  families,  and  one  of 
the  most  beautiful  towns  on  the  continent.  Shame,  burning 
shame  upon  you !  If  there  is  one  manly,  brave  American 
soul  among  you,  step  out  here,  and  I  will  lead  you  where 
you  can  show  to  that  Englishman  that  you  have  a  soul  above 
the  brutes,  who  cower  only  when  the  fire  comes.  Come  on, 
there,  .you  broad-shouldered  man  with  the  red  face;  clear 
the  way  for  him,  for  he  looks  honest  and  brave.  Here,  you 


STOEMCLIFF.  159 

young  man,  fling  off  that  broadcloth  coat,  and  take  hold.  It 
will  giv^e  you  ten  pounds  more  of  good  sound  flesh  and  health. 
That's  right,  come  on,  all  of  you ;  don't  let  a  woman  tell  you 
what  is  manly.  We'll  save  this  town  yet.  Ten  brave  men, 
with  generous  hearts,  out  of  this  hundred — that's  doing  pretty 
well.  We'll  find  more  just  above  here.  Hurry  up.  There 
comes  the  Englishman !" 

Many  stepped  out  of  the  crowd  and  followed  her.  Her 
voice  was  magical — the  influence  was  contagious.  Her  fol 
lowers  commenced  to  shout,  running  beside  her  horse,  cheer 
ing  her  and  calling  their  acquaintances  out  from  the  crowd. 
Hundreds  at  length  gathered  to  her  train,  moving  down  upon 
the  imperilled  court-house,  where  the  flames  were  already 
thrusting  out  their  forked  tongues,  and  the  cinders  were 
whirling  in  fiery  clouds.  The  English  gentleman,  discovering 
the  state  of  affairs,  conducted  the  young  ladies  to  a  place  of 
safety;  and  after  hiring  men  to  hold  their  horses,  he  dis 
mounted  in  sight  of  the  people,  and,  throwing  aside  his  grey 
riding  coat,  took  a  bucket  himself  and  stood  in  the  line. 
This  act  elicited  fresh  cheers ;  and  volunteers,  overpowered 
with  shame,  rushed  to  the  brakes  and  the  bucket-line  with 
avidity.  There  was  no  time  to  lose ;  the  atmosphere  above 
the  court-house  was  blazing  with  flying  fragments  of  shingles, 
and  the  bucket-line  and  the  engine  were  soon  enveloped  in 
a  whirling  cloud  of  sparks  and  smoke.  Conspicuous  above 
all  towered  the  white  horse  and  his  black-plumed  rider.  He 
started  violently  when  the  sparks  fell  upon  his  back  or  whirled 
across  his  eyes ;  but  he  was  held  by  an  experienced  hand,  and 
a  voice  that  he  loved  soothed  him  to  obey.  It  was  enough 
to  watch  her,  to  stir  up  the  emulous  passions  of  the  soul. 
She  wheeled  her  horse  up  and  down  the  line  of  buckets, 
encouraging,  laughing,  and  pointing  out  places  for  new  vol 
unteers.  At  one  time  it  seemed  that  no  human  endurance 
could  continue  the  line.  The  heat  glowed  like  a  furnace; 
and  the  rider,  as  she  pranced  up  and  down,  was  obliged  to 
tie  her  handkerchief  over  her  face,  tearing  out  with  her  teeth 


160  STOKMCLIFF. 

places  for  her  eyes.  No  one  would  leave  while  she  remained  ; 
and  finally,  the  building  which  threatened  the  court-house 
fell  with  a  thunder-crash,  and  all  were  forced  to  flee  from 
the  awful  heat.  Gradually,  however,  the.  flames  subsided 
amid  the  ruins,  and  the  intense  heat  died  away.  Slowly  the 
crowd  approached  the  spot,  and  it  was  soon  evident  that, 
unless  a  sudden  wind  should  arise,  a  large  part  of  the  town 
would  be  saved.  The  court-house  stood  unscathed,  and  be 
hind  it  stood  the  white  horse  and  rider,  listening  to  the 
shouts  which  proclaimed  Mrs.  Baltimore  the  savior  of  her 
native  town.  "  God  bless  your  sweet  eyes,"  exclaimed  a 
poor  woman  near  her,  holding  up  her  baby  to  see  the  beau 
tiful  lady.  "  You've  saved  the  court-house,  and  that  saved 
me  and  me  five  children,  arid  me  little  house,  and  all  the  fine 
houses  beyond.  The  town  should  put  up  a  monument  to  ye, 
and  put  on  it  a  likeness  of  your  sweet  face,  and  call  ye  the 
angel  of  the  suffering,  and  the  honor  of  your  native  town. 
Bad-luck  to  the  fine  ladies  that  have  no  karackter,  ony  way, 
when  trouble  comes  upon  the  people.  The  Lord  will  reward 
ye,  shure." 

These  words  called  forth  thunders  of  applause  from  the 
listeners. 

"  Three  cheers  for  John  Bull,"  called  out  a  voice,  as  the 
Englishman,  blackened  with  cinders,  resumed  his  coat,  and 
asked  for  his  horse.  They  were  given  with  a  will. 

Another  voice  inquired  what  had  become  of  the  three 
rescuers.  No  one  appeared  to  know.  They  were  last  seen 
entering  a  burning  building  far  down  the  street,  just  before 
t'ie  desperate  and  successful  effort  to  save  the  court-house. 

"  I  know,"  exclaimed  a  boy  near ;  "  I  heard  'era  say  they 
wns  tired  and  was  going  to  bed  ;  and  I  saw  'em  go  away,  too. 
There  was  four  on  the  start,  but  one  was  burnt  up.  The 
other  three  is  all  right  and  safe." 

"Thank  God  for  that,"  said  another  voice,  fervently; 
"they  say  those  four  men  saved  over  thirty  lives—men, 
women,  and  children.  That'll  do  for  one  night,  sartain." 


STORMCLIFF.  161 

"  Who  were  they  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Baltimore,  leaning  for 
ward,  and  endeavoring  to  locate  the  voice  of  the  lust  speaker. 

"  Nobody  knows,  ma'am,"  was  the  response.  "  They  was 
disguised  by  soot  and  cinders,  and  sich  like.  But  they 
looked  like  young,  active  men.  They  didn't  seem  to  know 
much  what  fear  was.  They  kinder  rollicked  in  the  fire." 

"  Three  cheers  for  'em,  any  way,"  shouted  a  fireman,  com 
pletely  drenched  with  water.  "  They  was  good  men  and 
true ;  they  dragged  me  out,  when  a  stick  knocked  me  end 
ways.  Three  cheers.  Hooray!" 

Cheer  after  cheer  rolled  away  over  the  throng  for  the 
three  heroes  who  had  hazarded  life  so  often  in  that  terrible 
conflagration,  and  then  quietly  had  stolen  away  to  their  beds, 
unheralded  and  unknown.  At  this  moment  the  Englishman 
made  his  appearance  with  the  remainder  of  the  cavalcade 
who  had  remained  apart,  awed  and  silent  spectators  of  the 
rescue  of  the  court-house.  As  they  rode  up,  Mrs.  Baltimore 
said  to  one  of  them,  laughingly,  as  she  turned  her  horse  to 
meet  them : 

"Pardon  me,  Kate,  for  leaving  you  all  so  unceremoniously 
at  the  end  of  the  street ;  'Mirage'  was  on  the  rampage.  He 
was  disposed  to  review  the  fire,  solitary  and  alone,  and  I 
couldn't  hold  him.  He  stopped,  like  a  sensible  beast,  just 
where  he  was  needed.  I  have  had  all  the  experience  of  the 
torrid  zone  that  is  necessary  ;  just  look  at  my  face.  Come," 
she  added,  quickly,  "  we  have  a  long  ride  before  us,  and  Nora 
will  be  anxious  about  us.  It  is  some  fifteen  miles  to  '  The 
Glen.'  Away  we  go." 

The  cavalcade  dashed  off  up  the  river,  and  was  soon  be 
yond  the  glare  of  the  fire.  Shouts  followed  that  black  plume 
and  white  steed  as  long  as  they  were  in  sight.  But  the 
party  were  soon  beyond  the  village  limits,  and  bounding 
along  under  the  trees  which  lined  the  highway  leading  past 
Nicholas  Traver's  estate.  The  moon,  in  full  brilliancy,  lighted 
their  way,  and  they  rapidly  neared  the  home  of  Grace  Traver's 
infancy  and  childhood  dreams. 


162  STORMCLIFF. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

A  TALL  figure  moved  suddenly  out  of  the  shrubbery  of  the 
garden  of  "  The  Glen,"  and  stood  in  the  open  moonlight. 
She  said,  emphatically,  "  Stop,  Nicholas  Traver."  The  per 
son  addressed  was  startled  by  the  abrupt  summons.  He 
paused.  She  was  directly  in  his  path.  He  made  a  gesture 
of  impatience,  and  attempted  to  pass  by,  saying : 

"  I  am  hurried  at  present,  Mrs.  Rudd ;  any  other  time,  I 
will  listen  to  you  with  pleasure ;  but  now " 

The  sentence  was  broken  by  her  quick  movement  to  detain 
him.  She  moved  instantly  in  front  of  him  and  said,  in  a 
determined  tone : 

"  Now  or  never,  you  shall  listen  to  me.  Whose  handker 
chief  have  you  in  your  hand  ?" 

"  How  can  that  concern  you  ?"  was  the  pert  reply,  given 
with  a  scowl  of  indignation.  Then  he  added :  "  What  do  you 
mean  by  addressing  me  in  that  tone,  on  my  daughter's 
premises  ? 

"  I  mean  to  do  my  duty,"  was  the  calm  reply.  "  Yes,  my 
duty"  The  dark  eyes  regarded  him  as  if  they  read  the 
secret  purposes  of  his  heart. 

"  And  pray  tell  me,"  he  said  sneeringly,  "  does  your  duty 
authorize  you  to  impede  the  walks  of  '  The  Glen '  at  night  ?" 

"It  does,"  she  said,  firmly,  "when  those  walks  are  used 
for  purposes  which  would  offend  the  owner  of  this  property." 

"What  do  you  mean,  madam?  Do  you  realize  that  you 
are  addressing  the  father  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  ?" 

"  I  do,"  said  the  imperturbable  voice. 

"  I  will  not  be  dogged  by  you,  Mrs.  Rudd,  in  this  style. 
Who  made  you  a  censor  over  my  movements  ?  This  is  the 
third  time  you  have  presumed  to  face  me  in  this  garden." 

"  Aye,  Nicholas  Traver,  and  it  will  not  be  the  last.  Your 
conscience  alone  makes  me  censor ;  and  your  conscience  will 
make  every  upright  woman  a  censor  over  your  actions. 


STOKMCLIFF.  163 

Your  sense  of  propriety  is  correct  enough.  What  are  you 
doing  with  that  lady's  handkerchief?" 

"  Returning  it  to  the  owner.  She  dropped  it,  and  requested 
me  to  hunt  it  for  her."  The  answer  came  out  with  an  effort 
at  coolness. 

"  Nicholas  Traver,  the  hour  is  late.  You  have  just  con 
ducted  that  lady  to  her  apartment  at  an  hour  when  the 
mistress  of  this  mansion  and  her  guests  are  sleeping.  Your 
interview  has  been  clandestine.  You  induced  that  young 
lady  to  meet  you  here,  unknown  to  Mrs.  Baltimore.  You 
dare  not  permit  the  inmates  of  this  house  to  know  of  such  a 
secret  meeting,  for  you  appreciate  the  responsibility  such  a 
knowledge  would  entail  upon  you." 

Old  Nora's  eyes  glowed  upon  his  sense  of  sight  like  stars. 
They  both  stood  in  the  full  light  of  the  moon,  and  the  moon 
was  directly  in  her  face.  He  made  no  reply  for  a  moment, 
but  stood  twirling  the  white  handkerchief  in  silence.  She 
had  stated  the  plain  fact,  and  there  was  no  evading  it. 
His  handsome  face  wore  a  sullen,  lowering  look.  Then  he 
ejaculated  at  last :  "  Well !  what  of  it  ?  What  do  you  pro 
pose  to  do  in  the  premises  ?" 

"Warn  the  young  lady  of  your  real  character,  if  you  do 
not  desist,"  was  the  firm  response. 

"And  do  you  imagine,  old  woman,  that  she  would  listen  to 
you?  Do  you  flatter  yourself  that  my  position  and  my 
daughter's  support  would  not  be  more  than  a  match  for  any 
of  your  assertions  ?  You  are  dealing  with  family  names  and 
family  pride  that  allow  no  stain  to  rest  on  one  of  us,  while 
power  and  influence  and  wealth  retain  their  potency.  A 
truce  to  this  nonsense.  Let  me  pass.  Your  proper  place  is 
in  bed  at  this  hour.  Old  age  has  no  sympathies  with  moon 
light.  Let  me  pass." 

He  made  an  effort  again  to  go  on  towards  the  house.  A 
single  sentence,  resolutely  pronounced,  checked  his  foot 
steps. 

"  Nicholas  Traver,  if  you  leave  I  will  inform  your  daughter 


164  STORMCLIFF. 

to-morrow  why  she  was  married  to  an  old  man.  I  will  tell 
her,  too,  in  a  way  that  will  convince  her." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  he  asked,  aghast. 

"  I  have  access  to  the  agreement.  She  shall  read  it  from 
beginning  to  end." 

"That  is  impossible!  You  are  holding  over  me  an  empty 
threat.  Let  me  pass !"  He  turned  out  of  the  gravelled  walk, 
and  made  his  way  across  a  flower  bed.  She  pronounced 
words  which  caused  him  to  turn  instantly  back  again. 

"I  have  the  agreement.  It  is  signed  by  you,  and  two 
green  ribbons  are  pressed  into  the  wax.  Ah !  I  knew  you 
were  fettered  by  two  ribbons." 

He  returned  to  her  side  with  evident  signs  of  apprehension 
in  that  Adonis  face.  "  Are  you  a  sorceress  ?"  As  he  spoke 
he  glanced  about  the  garden.  He  had  lost  his  bold  front 
and  loud  tone  of  voice.  Then  he  looked  searchingly  into  her 
face. 

"  The  guilty  and  the  conscience-stricken  call  me  sorceress. 
Those  who  honor  the  adorable  name  of  God,  as  you  do  not, 
call  me  Christian — a  follower  of  Jesus,  who  struggles  hard  to 
fulfil  duty." 

"  Well,  well,"  he  answered  impatiently,  "  I  have  no  wish 
to  discuss  your  creeds ;  nor  did  I  speak  literally.  I  meant, 
are  you  gifted  with  unusually  clear  perceptions,  to  probe  my 
secret  affairs  ?  How  could  you  gain  possession  of  such  a 
document  ?" 

"Never  mind,"  she  replied,  composedly  ;  "  I  have  it;  and 
I  shall  employ  it  against  you,  most  assuredly,  unless  you 
desist  from  your  secret  attentions  to  that  young  lady.  The 
dignity  and  decorum  of  this  household  demand  that  your 
conduct,  while  a  guest  here,  shall  be  open  and  straightfor 
ward.  You  have  a  gentleman's  delicate  sense  of  propriety. 
Let  that  rule  your  actions." 

She  spoke  calmly  and  with  the  dignity  of  an  empress.  Her 
uncovered  hair  glistened  in  the  moonlight,  and  her  eyes 
looked  directly  in  his.  That  gaze  he  felt.  He  knew  no 


STORMCLIFF.  165 

evasion,  no  subterfuge  could  save  him  from  that  exposure  of 
his  secret  life,  the  key  of  which  was  held  by  that  strange 
being.  There  was  but  one  course  of  action  open  to  him  ; 
that  was,  to  seem  to  acquiesce  until  opportunity  should  have 
freed  him  from  this  provoking  surveillance.  The  thought 
flashed  to  his  mind  that  his  influence  with  his  daughter  might 
secure  old  Nora's  removal  from  her  position  at  "The  Glen.' 
His  quick  judgment  as  rapidly  discarded  such  a  plan.  Thnt 
would  only  precipitate  the  old  woman's  production  of  the 
document.  How,  in  the  name  of  ill-luck,  had  she  obtained 
possession  of  that  paper  ?  A  person  in  her  dependent  posi 
tion,  who  had  been  known  for  years  to  live  upon  the  pittance 
given  for  nursing  the  sick  and  infants,  must  have  some  vul 
nerable  point  of  self-interest.  He  would  probe  for  it.  He 
looked  at  her  a  moment  in  silence.  Then  he  spoke. 

"  Mrs.  Rudd,  I  believe  you  are  right.  I  have  acted  im 
prudently.  My  judgment  assents  to  your  rebuke.  If  you 
consent  to  forget  and  conceal  this  imprudence,  I  shall  avoid 
it  altogether.  Indeed  I  will." 

"That  is  spoken  frankly  and  like  a  man,"  she  replied; 
somewhat  mollified  by  his  manner.  "As  a  pledge  that  you 
are  sincere,  give  me  that  handkerchief.  I  will  return  it  to 
the  owner  at  a  proper  time."  She  extended  her  hand  for  it. 

"  But  what  shall  I  say  to  the  owner,  who  is  waiting  for  it 
in  the  hall  yonder  ?" 

"  Go  that  way  to  your  own  room  at  once.  I  will  account 
satisfactorily  to  the  owner  why  you  do  not  return  with  it. 
Go."  She  pointed  towards  his  private  apartments. 

"  Very  well !"  he  half  muttered,  "  perhaps  that  is  best." 
He  felt  humiliated  to  be  ordered  about  in  this  style,  but  his 
purpose  would  be  secured  better  by  not  resisting  her 
now.  He  turned  away  with  a  respectful  "  Good-night, 
madam." 

"  Good-night,  sir,"  said  she,  with  coldness. 

He  turned  back  after  a  few  paces,  as  if  the  idea  had  sud 
den1  y  struck  him,  and  called  after  her.  She  had  not  moved 


366  STORMCLIFF. 

from  the  place  of  their  conversation,  but  remained  there  like 
a  statue  of  suspicion  looking  after  him. 

"  Mrs.  Rudd,  that  paper  you  mentioned  is  of  importance 
to  me — vast  importance.  It  can  be  of  no  positive  value  to 
you.  I  will  give  you  for  the  possession  of  it  any  amount  of 
compensation  you  will  name,  exorbitant  though  it  be."  He 
approached  her  while  speaking. 

Her  reply  startled  him  by  its  energy  and  bitterness.  "  You 
are  addressing  a  lady,  sir,  above  bribery  and  corruption. 
That  paper  shows  upon  its  face  that  it  does  not  belong  to 
you.  You  signed  it  and  gave  it  to  another.  Do  not  you 
dare  to  approach  me  again  with  offers  of  pay." 

Stung  to  the  quick,  he  exclaimed : 

"Do  what  you  please  with  your  ill-gotten  document.  I 
despise  you  for  your  insolence.  You  are  nothing  but  a  ser 
vant,  any  way.  I  defy  your  threats,  and  I  promise  you  full 
vengeance  for  whatever  injury  you  do  my  reputation.  Mark 
that." 

He  strode  furiously  down  the  garden  without  waiting  for 
her  reply.  But  she  noticed,  nevertheless,  that  he  went  in 
the  direction  of  his  own  private  apartments.  When  the 
sound  of  his  footsteps  died  away  in  the  distance,  she  raised 
the  handkerchief  which  he  had  relinquished  to  her,  and  exa 
mined  it  in  the  moonlight.  The  lady's  name  was  marked 
in  the  corner.  She  folded  it  carefully,  and,  carrying  it  in  her 
hand,  walked  slowly  towards  the  hall  or  covered  way,  which 
connected  the  old  mansion  with  the  new  buildings  which 
had  been  erected  in  the  rear,  under  her  supervision.  In  these 
new  structures  apartments  had  been  assigned  to  Sir  Francis 
Cleveland  and  his  daughter.  Here  also  was  the  suite  of 
rooms  devoted  exclusively  to  the  use  of  Mrs.  Baltimore's 
father,  whenever  he  chose  to  honor  "  The  Glen  "  for  a  day  or 
two  with  his  presence.  These  recent  structures  were  calcu" 
lated  for  the  accommodation  of  many  guests.  Each  guest 
had  a  private  parlor,  a  bed-room  elegantly  furnished,  and  a 
luxurious  bathing-closet.  The  windows  looked  out  upon 


STORMCLIFF.  167 

the  gardens,  and  on  this  night  several  of  them  were  open  for 
the  benefit  of  fresh  air,  and  also  that  the  guests  might  be 
lulled  to  sleep  by  the  fountains  musically  playing  in  the 
moonlight. 

Nora  opened  the  door  which  furnished  egress  into  the 
grounds  from  this  covered  connecting-hall,  and  directly  she 
heard  the  rustling  of  a  dress  approaching  from  the  old  man 
sion.  The  moonlight  flooded  into  the  covered  way  at  the 
window  openings,  and  presently  a  white-robed  girl  came  into 
view.  She  wore  a  dress  with  low  neck  and  short  sleeves. 
Her  fair  round  arms  showed  distinctly  in  the  moonlight  as 
she  paused  near  a  window  to  listen.  Even  the  glistening  of 
her  finger-rings  was  revealed.  She  had  evidently  heard  the 
door  open,  and  came  cautiously  along  from  the  old  house  to 
receive  her  lost  handkerchief.  What  was  her  amazement  to 
hear  the  voice  of  Nora  call  to  her  from  the  shadow  of  the  hall : 

"  Miss  Angier,  here  is  a  handkerchief  with  your  name  on 
it.  You  dropped  it  in  the  garden  some  time  when  you  have 
been  walking.  The  night  is  perfectly  beautiful.  I  have  been 
enjoying  a  walk  through  the  grounds.  It  appears  from  your 
dress  that  you,  too,  have  been  sitting  up  late  to  enjoy  the 
moon.  Is  there  a  fine  view  from  your  windows  ?" 

She  advanced  calmly  to  the  startled  young  lady  and  ex 
tended  the  lost  article  to  her,  as  if  nothing  unusual  had 
occurred.  The  poor  girl  was  evidently  in  a  flutter  of  dismay. 
What  if  Nora  had  chanced  to  see  the  clandestine  interview  ! 
What  a  narrow  escape  she  must  have  made !  She  thanked 
the  old  woman  as  she  received  the  handkerchief,  and  looked 
closely  into  her  face  to  detect  any  indication  of  consciousness 
of  the  night  interview.  Nothing  was  revealed  in  that  self- 
possessed  countenance,  and  Miss  Angier  was  satisfied  that 
she  had  escaped  detection.  She  made  some  trivial  explana 
tion  of  her  being  in  the  hall  at  that  late  hour,  but  the  old 
woman  interrupted  her. 

"  You  need  never  have  any  apprehension  about  moving 
around  this  house  at  night.  I  am  always  up  late.  Indeed, 


168  STORMCLIFF. 

Bounce  and  I  have  constituted  ourselves  a  kind  of  night- 
watch.  We  perambulate  this  place  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  and  we  are  almost  certain  to  detect  any  stranger  or 
strange  occurrence  on  the  property.  Good-night.  I  must 
fasten  this  dtfor  now." 

With  this  comforting  assurance  of  her  vigilance,  she  turned 
away,  and  Miss  Angier  walked  thoughtfully  into  the  old 
house.  Could  it  be  possible  that  her  secret  promenade  had 
escaped  those  dark  eyes  for  two  or  three  nights  past?  It 
must  be  discontinued,  that  was  certain.  In  the  present  un 
satisfactory  condition  of  affairs  between  herself  and  Mr. 
Traver,  it  was  eminently  injudicious  to  allow  any  otie  to  see 
her  out  with  him  late  at  night.  It  was  improper  to  be  out 
at  that  late  hour  with  him,  even  if  he  had  proposed  and  been 
formally  a'ccepted.  Her  own  good  sense  informed  her  of  this 
fact  as  soon  as  she  bad  received  this  fright  from  Nora.  But 
she  had  been  so  fascinated  by  his  elegance  and  address,  that 
discretion  had  for  a  time  spread  its  wings  and  vanished.  It 
now  returned  solemnly,  and  stood  sentry  over  her  reflections 
as  she  disrobed  and  prepared  for  bed.  Before  she  fell 
asleep  she  said  to  herself: 

"  No  doubt  he  is  a  superb  gentleman,  and  I  couldn't  do 
better.  But  he  may  escape  me  after  all,  and  then  it  will 
never  do  for  me  to  be  talked  about  as  indiscreet.  He  must 
have  seen  Mrs.  Rudd  and  retired  out  of  her  way.  If  not,  he 
surely  would  have  returned  to  tell  me  he  could  not  find  the 
handkerchief." 

The  old  nurse,  after  locking  the  door  which  had  given  her 
admittance  from  the  garden,  remained  in  the  hall  motionless. 
She  listened  to  the  young  lady's  retiring  footsteps  as  she 
passed  on  into  the  front  house.  After  a  while,  feeling  satis 
fied  that  she  had  retired  for  the  night,  she  unlocked  the 
door  and  looked  out  into  the  garden.  Every  object  appeared 
distinct  as  in  daylight.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  but  the 
tinkling  of  the  falling  drops  in  the  fountains.  Doubt  held 
her  motionless  for  a  few  moments  longer.  Then,  as  no  noise 


STORMCLIFF.  169 

of  human  life  was  apparent,  she  gained  confidence  and  passed 
out  into  the  garden,  locking  the  door  behind  her  and  putting 
the  key  in  her  pocket.  She  walked  slowly  along  the  path 
which  led  her  past  the  windows  of  Nicholas  Traver.  They 
were  open,  and  she  walked  upon  the  grass  close  to  the 
building,  that  he  might  not  hear  her  footfall,  should  he 
chance  to  be  still  awake.  She  sat  down  upon  the  steps  of 
the  Gothic  porch  which  covered  the  door  which  had  given 
him  access  to  his  room,  and  listened.  All  was  quiet  within 
except  the  industrious  ticking  of  a  little  clock.  She  returned 
then  along  the  path,  and  passing  around  the  front  house, 
found  the  dog  Bounce  lying  upon  the  steps  of  the  old  ivy- 
wreathed  stone  porch,  which  had  been  built  by  the  founder 
of  the  Baltimore  family.  The  dog  recognised>  her,  and, 
rising,  walked  with  dignity  towards  her.  She  patted  him 
on  the  head,  and  bade  him,  in  a  subdued  tone,  to  follow  her. 
He  obeyed,  and  she  conducted  him  to  his  kennel,  under  the 
long  piazza,  which  had  looked  for  so  many  years  towards 
the  pine-bordei'ed  glen  which  concealed  the  brook  of  the 
park.  He  was  then  chained  to  his  kennel. 

Nora  passed  on  as  softly  as  she  could  through  the  garden 
shrubbery  until  she  reached  its  boundary  fence.  She  pushed 
open  a  gate  noiselessly,  and  entered  the  park.  The  moon 
beams  quivered  at  intervals  through  the  summer  foliage  of 
the  oaks  and  maples,  and  lighted  her  way.  After  a  while 
she  reached  the  undergrowth  which  adjoined  the  premises 
of  Willow  Bend.  Here  she  paused  and  listened  for  foot 
steps.  She  was  disappointed,  and  walked  back  and  forth 
along  the  belt  of  undergrowth  to  give  the  expected  comer 
time  to  fulfil  the  engagement  to  meet  her.  Her  watch  was 
at  length  rewarded  by  hearing  the  shrubbery  parted,  and  in 
a  moment  more  a  female  made  her  appearance  in  the  open 
park.  She  advanced  to  meet  her.  It  was  Mrs.  Granville. 

The  lady  threw  back  the  hood  which  she  had  assumed  for 
purposes  of  concealment,  and  the  moonlight  fell  upon  her 
alabaster  face.  She  looked  anxious,  awed,  as  if  her  mission 

8 


170  STORMCLIFF. 

to  the  park  was  attended  with  hazard.  She  glanced  nervous 
ly  about  under  the  trees,  as  if  she  feared  interruption.  Nora's 
composed  tones  of  voice  reassured  her. 

"  Do  not  be  at  all  concerned.  I  have  taken  all  necessary 
precautions  to  secure  you  a  secret  visit.  Everybody  is  sleep- 
ing." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  over  anxious  to-night,"  was  the  response. 
"  But  Zoe  has  been  talking  so  strangely  in  her  sleep  that  it 
has  made  me  nervous.  That  dear  child  sees  so  many  ethereal 
beings  in  her  dreams,  and  is  for  ever  talking  about  them. 
Sometimes  she  springs  suddenly  up  from  her  sleep,  and  put 
ting  her  arms  around  my  neck,  tells  me  what  the  angels  have 
been  saying  to  her.  Frequently,  as  to-night,  she  warns  me 
of  danger  near,  and  says :  '  Mamma,  you  must  pray  again  to 
night,  for  they  say  it  is  a  shield  from  trouble.'  I  have  just 
left  her  asleep,  with  a  white  lily  clasped  in  her  hands ;  for 
she  insisted  that  her  guardians  from  Heaven  come  closer  to 
her  when  she  sleeps  with  white  flowers  near  her.  Oh !  I  am 
so  fearful  that  she  is  going  to  leave  me  alone  some  day.  She 
is  growing  so  delicate  and  spiritual.  Alas !  if  she  goes,  I 
know  not  what  will  become  of  me.  She  is  the  last  link  that 
binds  me  to  hope  and  mercy."  The  speaker  was  interrupted 
by  the  furious  barking  of  a  dog.  Some  one  was  surely  stir 
ring  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  kennel. 

Nora  pointed  her  companion  to  a  cluster  of  young  trees 
in  the  park,  which  would  serve  as  a  place  of  concealment 
until  she  could  return  to  the  house  and  discover  the  cause  of 
the  intrusion  on  the  premises.  Mrs.  Granville  drew  her  hood 
over  her  face,  and  hastened  away  to  the  designated  spot  to 
await  Nora's  return. 

The  old  nurse  rapidly  passed  across  the  park,  and,  reaching 
the  stone  porch  of  the  mansion,  groped  under  it  for  her 
steel-pointed  staff,  that  she  might  be  in  readiness  to  defend 
herself,  if  necessary.  Securing  the  weapon,  she  proceeded 
to  the  kennel  of  Bounce.  The  dog  was  very  uneasy,  running 
back  and  forth  at  the  length  of  his  chain,  and  howling  occa- 


STORMCLIFF.  171 

sionally  at  some  unseen  person.  She  silenced  him  and  listened. 
No  sound  met  her  ear.  The  keen  instinct  of  the  dog  could 
not  be  at  fault,  and  she  listened  again.  Ah!  that  was  the 
difficulty.  The  hollow  sound  of  a  horse's  hoofs  leaving  the 
floor  of  the  stables  was  audible  for  an  instant,  and  then  all 
was  still  again.  She  directed  the  dog  to  lie  down  and  keep 
still.  Cautiously  stealing  down  the  sloping  garden  to  the 
pine-bordered  glen,  she  gained  a  view  of  the  stables,  and  saw 
a  mounted  man  just  turning  out  of  the  moonlight  into  the 
shadow  of  the  barns.  She  could  see  him  moving  indistinctly 
through  the  shadows,  and  then  he  was  lost  in  the  intervening 
shrubbery.  Presently  she  heard  the  hoofs  beat  slowly  across 
a  bridge  over  the  creek.  The  rider  was  finding  his  way 
around  to  the  great  drive  of  the  park  by  a  path  seldom  used. 
That  surely  indicated  unwillingness  to  be  seen  from  the  win 
dows  of  the  mansion.  She  hastened  along  under  the  shrub 
bery  to  the  stables  to  alarm  the  servant  who  had  charge  of 
the  horses,  and  who  must  have  been  soundly  sleeping.  Ar 
riving  at  the  barns,  she  found  the  hostler  awake.  He  in 
formed  her  that  Mr.  Traver  had  come  quietly  for  his  horse, 
and  telling  him  to  remain  in  bed,  had  saddled  the  beast  him 
self,  and  rode  off  on  some  night  business  which  he  evidently 
desired  to  keep  concealed.  There  could  be,  of  course,  no  de 
murrer  to  this  arrangement,  and  Nora  returned  to  the  front 
of  the  mansion  on  her  way  to  the  cluster  of  trees,  where  Mrs. 
Granville  was  awaiting  her  return. 

That  lady  had  reached  the  designated  place  of  conceal 
ment,  and  stood  listening  to  the  distant  howling  of  the  dog. 
Presently  all  sound  had  died  away,  and  leaning  her  hand 
upon  a  tree,  she  remained  silent  and  attentive.  The  moon 
light  shimmered  through  the  leaves  of  the  great  oaks  and 
maples,  and  brought  out  in  daylight  distinctness  large  patches 
of  greensward  where  it  fell.  Peering  out  from  her  hiding- 
place,  Mrs.  Granville  saw  near  at  hand  the  main  avenue  or 
drive  of  the  park.  There  were  few  trees  at  that  point  to 
shade  the  avenue,  and  the  road  was  revealed  for  several 


]  72  STORMCLIFF. 

hundred  feet  in  the  full  glare  of  the  moon.  She  pressed  back 
her  hood  again,  and  her  exquisite  beauty  was  presented  in 
all  its  mature  loveliness.  Her  large,  lustrous  eyes  were  bent 
upon  the  avenue,  and  the  moonbeams  fell  upon  a  face  which 
was  as  motionless  and  purely  white  as  marble.  A  sound  of 
something  approaching  met  her  ear.  She  drew  back  again 
into  the  shadow  of  the  thicket.  Presently  she  recognised 
the  beat  of  hoofs  coming  along  the  avenue.  The  rider  was 
evidently  too  hurried  to  linger  under  the  trees  for  enjoyment 
of  the  fairy-like  scene.  The  flying  steed  came  nigher  to  her 
place  of  retreat.  She  leaned  forward  and  parted  the  branches 
in  curiosity.  He  rode  boldly,  and  with  the  ease  of  a  cavalier. 
He  bounded  past  the  thicket,  and  held  on  down  the  avenue 
towards  the  porter's  lodge,  utterly  unconscious  of  the  beau 
tiful  face  which  regarded  him.  He  was  gone,  but  not  for 
gotten.  That  princely  form  and  bearing  was  one  in  a  thou 
sand.  It  recalled  agonies  of  memory;  aye,  bitter,  burning 
tears  of  shame  and  remorse,  vows  broken,  affection  blighted 
and  trampled  into  dust,  and  pride  hurled  from  its  throne  of 
power.  It  recalled  a  woman's  fathomless,  undying  love; 
that  love  which  erects  an  idol,  and  sacrifices  to  it  everything 
which  is  most  cherished,  most  sacred  in  life. 

Poor  deserted,  exquisite  child  of  beauty  and  grace,  how 
like  a  blighted  flower  she  fell  to  the  earth,  and  moaned, 
covering  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  murmuring  through 
her  burning  tears  prayers  to  God  to  forgive  her  for  loving 
him  still;  for  yearning  after  him  with  a  soul's  devotion  ;  for 
craving  the  poor  but  exquisite  privilege  of  kissing  his  hand, 
and  moistening  it  with  her  tears  !  It  was  so  long  since  she 
had  looked  upon  that  glorious  shape  of  manhood — so  many 
weary  years  since  he  had  smiled  on  her,  and  pressed  her  head 
lovingly  to  his  breast !  Oh,  that  she  might  rest  her  aching 
head  on  that  dear  pillow  once  again,  and  hear  him  whisper  his 
low,  sweet  tones  of  love.  Lower  and  lower  she  crouched  in 
agony,  and  moaned :  "  Oh,  God  !  give  him  back  to  me,  or 
let  me  in  mercy  die." 


STORMCLIFF.  173 

Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  sound  of  the  flying  hoofs. 
Each  beat  upon  the  hollow-sounding  earth  seemed  to  crush 
an  outstretching  tendril  of  a  bleeding  heart.  He  was  gone, 
unconscious  of  the  trembling  life  crouching  in  the  thicket— 
the  poor  forsaken  being  who  clung  so  faithfully  to  his  memory, 
and  whose  abandoment  to  him  had  nearly  obliterated  the 
name  of  God.  What  wonder,  that  in  the  inexperience  and 
ardor  of  sixteen  summers,  she  had  loved  passionately  the 
most  elegant  gentleman  of  his  county.  His  praises  were  on 
every  lip;  his  accomplishments  were  the  delight  of  every 
social  gathering.  His  tones  of  tenderness  awoke  responses 
in  her  young  soul  which  could  never  die.  She  looked  up  to 
him  for  counsel  and  sympathy.  He  was  the  guardian  of  her 
property,  appointed  by  her  father's  will.  This  gave  him 
access  to  her.  She  trusted  him,  as  a  being  of  superior  intel 
lect,  a  paragon  of  manly  beauty  and  excellence.  And  when 
he  ventured,  in  his  mature  age  and  his  unequalled  power  of 
fascination,  to  whisper  to  her  of  love,  everything  seemed  to 
swim  dizzily  around  her.  Wtio  would  not  be  happy  to  receive 
the  addresses  of  such  a  widower  ?  She  abandoned  herself  to 
his  love  and  honor.  Alas!  her  guardian-angel  looked  up 
mournfully  to  God,  and  moaned:  "She  is  betrayed — so 
young,  so  helpless.  Oh!  forgive  her!" 

The  last  sound  of  the  hoofs  had  passe/I  away,  and  she  arose 
again,  calm  and  marble-white  in  the  moonlight.  All  traces 
of  tears  had  vanished.  No  doubt  some  celestial  comforter 
had  fluttered  downwards  to  her  side,  for  she  had  been  praying. 

The  world  turns  sneeringly  away  from  the  fallen;  but 
then  a  face  of  exquisite  sweetness  draws  near,  and  a  loving 
voice  whispers:  "Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

As  she  stood  there,  silent  and  thoughtful,  Nora  came  to 
her  and  said :  "  Now  we  can  go  on ;  Mr.  Traver  has  taken  it  into 
his  head  to  ride  out  in  the  moonlight.  Did  you  hear  him  pass  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  was  the  sad  reply ;  "  and  I  thought  I  should  die. 
Oh !  Nora,  no  language  can  express  how  I  love  that  man  yet." 


1 74  STORMCLFFF. 

"It's  no  fault  of  yours  that  you  do,"  was  the  earnest 
response.  "  He  won  your  girlish  heart  by  a  promise  of  mar 
riage.  Divine  Justice  will  smite  hjm  and  pardon  you." 

"  No,  no ;  don't  say  that,  Nora*.  I  pray  that  he  may  be 
forgiven.  I  would  rather  suffer  in  this  life,  if  it  can  avert 
God's  anger  from  him  and  from  Zoe." 

The  old  nurse  was  on  the  point  of  expressing  herself  bit 
terly,  but  checking  her  anger,  she  remained  silent,  and 
commenced  to  walk  away.  Without  another  word  they 
traversed  the  park  and  arrived  at  the  low  pines  which 
bordered  the  stream.  Descending  the  shelving  rock,  they 
reached  the  bed  of  the  brook,  which  was  now  nearly  dry. 
Walking  carefully  along  this  hidden  way,  by  stepping  on  the 
dry  stones  which  were  scattered  through  the  glen,  they 
reached  a  point  at  the  foot  of  the  garden  which  extended 
along  the  south  side  of  the  mansion.  Here,  by  means  of 
natural  steps  in  the  rock,  they  ascended  to  the  wall  of  an 
addition  which  Nora  had  built  to  the  workshops  of  the 
property.  They  found  the  old  gardener  on  the  watch  for 
them.  He  was  seated  on  the  steps ;  and  instantly  rising,  he 
spoke  a  few  words  in  a  low  tone  to  Mrs.  Granville.  Then  he 
conducted  her  into  his  own  room  in  the  workshop,  which 
communicated  secretly  with  the  prison  of  her  lunatic  mother. 

The  old  nurse  remained  outside,  seated  on  the  rock  steps 
with  her  staff. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

NICHOLAS  TEAVER  aroused  the  porter  at  the  lodge,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  iron  gate  swung  open  and  he  rode  out  upon 
the  highway.  Purposeless  and  undecided,  seeking  only  to 
drown  the  painful  reflections  aroused  By  the  old  nurse's 
threat,  and  which  prevented  his  sleeping,  he  bounded  along. 
He  fancied  that  the  excitement  and  novelty  of  a  late  ride 


STOEMCLIFF.  175 

would  drive  away,  partially  at  least,  the  apprehensions  she 
had  occasioned  by  acknowledging  the  custody  of  the  myste 
rious  agreement.  Keenly  appreciative  of  the  romantic  and  the 
beautiful,  he  gazed  upon  the  blended  h'ghts  and  shadows  flung 
across  the  road,  the  curving  silver  bows  of  the  little  streams 
which  occasionally  rippled  athwart  his  way,  or  contemplated 
the  serene  majesty  of  the  moon,  now  gradually  dropping 
towards  the  western  horizon.  But  all  was  vain.  He  felt 
that  he  was  in  another's  power,  and  that  other  was  a  woman. 
Aye !  a  woman  who  had  once  occupied  the  position  of  a 
menial  in  his  own  household.  Who  was  she,  this  old  nurse 
of  sixt/,  so  long  familiar  to  the  highland  families?  Why 
was  this  servant,  so  faithful,  so  invaluable,  sometimes  so  star 
tling  when  she  assumed  the  manners  of  superiority,  of  lady 
ship,  of  rank  ?  Why  had  she  enveloped  herself  in  mystery, 
if  really  she  was  entitled  to  position  in  society  ?  Ah !  if  he 
could  only  find  the  clue  to  her  secret,  how  quickly  would  he 
destroy  her  power  of  threatening  him.  Then  their  secrets 
should  balance  each  other.  But  now  she  held  the  sword  of 
exposure  over  him.  He  feared  to  provoke  its  fall.  It  would 
cleave  his  pride  asunder,  and  open  to  the  hateful  gaze  of 
society  Ms  inner  life,  his  real  self.  His  offer  of  a  bribe  had 
been  flung  back  at  him  with  a  vehemence,  with  a  flash  of 
indepenlence  which  gained  his  respect  and  rage.  As  he 
bounded  along,  these  reflections  would  start  up  before  his 
mind,  and  divert  his  thoughts  from  the  beautiful  and  the 
grand  which  met  him  at  every  turn.  The  moonlight  grew 
hateful  to  him.  He  checked  his  horse  suddenly,  and  wheeled 
him  back  towards  "The  Glen."  He  suffered  the  beast  to 
follow  his  own  will,  and  after  a  time  the  horse  relaxed  his 
efforts  and  commenced  to  walk.  Unmindful  of  the  slackened 
pace  the  rider  continued  buried  in  his  reverie.  Finally,  the 
steed  came  to  a  dead  halt.  Mr.  Traver  looked  up  and  found 
he  was  standing  before  the  iron  gate  at  the  porter's  lodge. 
He  was  not  disposed  to  enter  the  park  yet,  so  he  turned  his 
horse  back  into  the  highway  and  allowed  him  to  walk  on 


176  STORMCLIFP. 

past  the  gate  towards  the  north.  He  was  now  approaching 
the  premises  of  Willow  Bend. 

His  attention  was  soon  attracted  from  his  meditations  by 
the  hollow  sound  occasioned  by  his  horse's  hoofs  crossing  a 
bridge  of  larger  dimensions  than  he  had  come  across  that 
night !  Looking  about  him,  he  saw  the  gate  of  a  large  estate 
just  beyond  the  bridge.  The  white  balls  of  the  gate  posts 
were  distinctly  revealed  in  the  moonlight,  through  an  opening 
in  the  willows  which  bordered  the  stream.  He  had  avoided 
that  gate  for  years.  He  had  determined  never  to  enter  those 
premises  again.  Then  why  did  he  ride  directly  up  to  the 
gate  and  rein  his  horse  to  a  dead  stop  ?  It  was  an  impulse, 
surely — one  of  those  unaccountable  dictates  of  the  will  which 
nearly  every  individual  experiences  some  time  in  life.  There 
he  stood,  thoughtfully,  silently,  that  superb  horseman,  that 
peerless  gentleman,  gazing  over  the  gate  upon  the  deeping 
estate.  He  could  trace  for  a  great  distance  the  course  of 
the  brook  through  the  property  by  the  rows  of  drooping 
willows  which  lined  the  banks.  Their  graceful  foliage  seem 
ed  to  be  dreaming  in  the  moonbeams.  At  other  po>nts  the 
branches  of  ancient  elms  cast  shadows  upon  the  ireadow, 
and  they,  too,  were  dreaming,  motionless.  So  peaceful  and 
quiet  seemed  the  place,  that  one  might  fancy  care  and  suffer 
ing  had  never  gained  access  to  the  inmates  of  the  cottage 
which  appeared  faintly  in  the  distance. 

Curiosity  at  length  took  possession  of  the  thoughtful  horse 
man,  for  he  leaned  forwards,  and,  opening  the  gate  with  the 
butt  of  his  riding-whip,  he  walked  his  horse  into  the  estate. 
He  purposed  at  first  only  to  take  a  brief  survey  of  the  con 
dition  of  the  property,  and  then  retire  quietly  back  into  the 
highway.  B,ut  as  the  easy  pace  of  his  steed  brought  him 
further  and  further  along  under  the  alluring  trees  and  through 
the  meadow  glistening  with  dew-drops,  he  concluded  to  pass 
in  the  rear  of  the  barns,  and  make  a  complete  circuit  of  the 
estate,  avoiding  the  cottage.  Slowly  the  horse  paced  on  his 
way,  as  if  involved  in  the  same  enchantment  as  his  master. 


STOKMCLIFF.  177 

With  arching  neck  and  stately  tread,  his  long  white  tail 
sweeping  the  dew-gemmed  grass,  he  moved  quietly  along, 
with  the  moonlight  and  shadow  fluttering  upon  his  glistening 
iron-grey  coat.  The  rider  gained  the  rear  of  the  barns,  and 
passing  through  their  shadows,  emerged  into  the  open  space 
beyond.  Perfect  silence  reigned  as  he  paused  to  look  at  the 
cottage,  once  so  familiar  to  him.  No  doubt  the  inmates 
were  long  since  buried  in  slumber.  Could  it  be  possible  that 
light  was  shining  through  the  windows  of  the  sitting-room  ? 
He  examined  the  house  more  closely,  recalling  the  formation 
of  the  rooms  upon  the  ground-floor  as  he  had  known  them. 
He  could  not  be  mistaken.  That  was  the  room  where  so 
often  he  had  met  his  beautiful  ward  in  the  years  gone  by. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  she  was  sitting  up  there  with  a 
lamp  so  long  after  midnight  ?  Curiosity  prompted  him  to 
take  a  look  at  her,  after  so  many  years  of  separation.  He 
would  steal  up  to  the  window  and  noiselessly  contemplate 
that  loveliness  from  which  he  had  detached  happiness  for 
ever.  She  would  never  know  it.  No  one  would  ever  know 
it.  He  turned  his  horse  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  barns, 
and  dismounting,  secured  the  bridle  to  a  post.  Then  he 
carefully  approached  the  cottage,  covering  his  advance  by 
every  favorable  shadow  of  tree  or  shrub.  He  reached  the 
window,  and  cautiously  peered  in.  A  lamp  was  burning  on 
the  high  mantelpiece,  but  the  room  was  untenanted.  A 
door  was  open  into  an  adjoining  apartment,  which  he  recol 
lected  was  once  used  for  a  sleeping-room.  He  was  disap 
pointed.  The  fair  tenant  had  no  doubt  retired,  and  neglected 
to  extinguish  her  lamp.  He  stood  and  reflected  for  several 
minutes  silently. 

'.  Nicholas  Traver  was  possessed  of  a  strong  will.  Seldom 
was  he  thwarted  in  any  purpose  which  he  undertook.  After 
studying  for  a  time  his  next  step,  he  concluded  to  examine 
the  exterior  of  the  house  further  before  deciding  upon  forcing 
an  entry.  He  stole  along  the  side  of  the  cottage  and  turned 
the  corner.  The  frame  of  a  window  was  apparent,  but  the 


178  STOKMCLIFP. 

moonlight  illumined  that  entire  side  of  the  dwelling.  If  any 
one  was  awake,  his  figure  would  be  distinctly  visible.  He 
crawled  close  to  the  ground  till  he  was  directly  under  the 
window.  Then  slowly  he  raised  his  head,  from  which  he  had 
removed  his  hat,  to  the  level  of  the  window-sill.  Instantly 
he  dropped  to  the  earth  again.  To  his  surprise,  the  window 
was  open.  After  waiting  a  moment,  and  hearing  no  sound 
within,  he  ventured  to  raise  himself  and  look  again.  The 
moonbeams  betrayed  to  his  gaze  every  object  in  the  apart 
ment.  No  one  was  there  except  a  little  girl  sleeping  upon 
a  bed  close  to  the  window.  Her  sweet  face  was  turned 
towards  him,  so  close  that  he  could  detect  her  gentle  breath 
ing.  She  was  bathed  in  moonlight,  and  in  her  delicate 
hands,  which  were  outside  the  coverlet,  was  clasped  an  ex 
quisite  white  lily.  It  was  little  Zoe  dreaming  of  her  dear 
angels.  Bewildered  by  this  unexpected  apparition  of  love 
liness,  he  bent  over  her  and  scanned  her  features.  A  low, 
sweet  note  of  tenderness  was  faintly  sounded  in  the  depths 
of  his  heart.  It  was  his  own  child,  and  for  the  first  time  he 
was  looking  upon  her  face.  Her  infant  hours  of  mirth  and 
sorrow  had  passed  away,  never  to  return,  and  of  her  baby 
history  he  was  as  ignorant  as  if  he  had  lived  beyond  the 
seas.  Months  and  years  had  stolen  by ;  the  little  hands  had 
learned  to  clench  and  firmly  hold  the  beautiful  flowers  of 
God's  creation ;  the  hair  had  lengthened  and  learned  to 
wander  in  curls,  the  little  mouth  had  assumed  character,  and 
the  shoulders  and  arms  had  been  developed  in  grace  and 
beauty.  And  now  the  father  contemplated,  not  his  infant, 
but  his  exquisite  little  girl.  She  was  as  beautiful  a  casket  as 
ever  guards  an  immortal  soul.  His  own  perfect  taste  pro 
nounced  her  faultless,  and  a  keen  sting  of  remorse  darted  to 
his  heart  that  she  was  born  to  shame.  Aye !  there  slept  an 
everlasting  witness  to  his  broken  promise  and  his  lost  honor. 
That  dear,  lovely  child,  with  an  angel's  face,  and  a  tender, 
sensitive  nature,  he  had  doomed  to  a  lonely  and  wretched 
life.  The  world  would  spit  in  that  innocent  little  face,  the 


STORMCLIFF.  179 

world  would  trample  down  those  little  bands,  if  they  dared 
to  reach  forth  for  the  honorable  and  honored  crown  of 
womanhood,  marriage — marriage  with  refinement  and  rank. 
And  he  alone  had  done  it.  He  alone  had  betrayed  the  con 
fidence  and  trusting  love  of  a  woman  who  would  willingly 
have  opened  the  veins  of  her  body  and  suffered  her  blood  to 
flow  to  save  him  from  suffering  or  death.  Here  was  the 
innocent  witness,  clasping  the  pure  lily,  and  dreaming  of  the 
only  father  her  little  yearning  heart  had  ever  known — her 
Father  in  Heaven.  The  unhappy  author  of  her  shame  raised 
his  hand  and  pressed  it  firmly  against  his  temples,  as  if  the 
agony  of  his  remorse  was  burning  deeper  and  deeper  into  his 
brain.  His  favorite  child  Walter  was  murdered ;  his  brilliant 
daughter,  Grace,  would  learn  in  time  to  look  upon  her  father' 
with  loathing  for  sacrificing  her  young  life  to  decrepitude  and 
misery ;  and  who  would  love  him  then  ?  Could  that  lovely 
sleeper  ever  learn  to  regard  with  affection  one  who  had  rob 
bed  her  mother  of  honor  and  herself  of  hope  ?  Hush !  she 
murmurs  in  her  sleep. 

"Dear  angel,  will  Zoe  have  a  father  up  there — way  up 
there  above  the  stars,  like  the  father  other  little  girls  have  ? 
Will  he  love  Zoe  and  srnoothe  her  hair,  and  call  her  his  darling 
little  girl.  Yes !  take  the  lily — tell  me,  tell  me ;  I  will  give 
you  all  my  flowers." 

The  little  hands  eagerly  extended  upwards  in  her  sleep,  as 
if  she  saw  the  angel  coming  for  the  lily.  Some  one  had  been 
teaching  the  child  the  superstitions  of  the  day — God  and 
Heaven  and  angels.  What  if  there  was  a  God  ?  What  if 
there  really  were  places  of  reward  and  punishment  ?  What 
if  the  pure  and  the  upright  were  wafted  in  the  arms  of  angels 
to  a  home  of  peace  and  holiness  and  joy  ?  Where  was  the 
spirit  of  his  murdered  boy — his  noble,  pure-minded,  praying, 
God-fearing  Walter  ?  Where  was  the  pure  spirit  of  his  long- 
lost  wife  ?  Where  would  Nicholas  Traver  spend  eternity,  if 
death  should  meet  him  that  night  ?  Would  the^  eyes  of 
loved  ones  be  parted  from  him  for  ever  in  that  far-off  world 


]  80  STORMCLIFF. 

of  the  future  life  ?  Would  sweetness  and  innocence  and  joy 
be  reserved  for  them,  and  shame  and  horror  and  desolation 
and  agony  be  his  portion  ?  Was  this  innocent,  sleeping  pic 
ture  of  loveliness,  the  type  of  heaven,  and  his  own  secret 
crimes  the  type  of  hell  ?  He  studied  her  more  closely  in  the 
moonlight,  and  her  infantile  beauty  and  loveliness  melted  his 
heart  as  no  sermon  and  no  power  of  eloquence  could  ever  do. 
That  little  innocence  was  yearning  for  a  father's  love.  To  a 
father's  heart  how  eagerly  would  she  hasten.  How  sweetly 
would  she  cling  to  him,  and  twine  her  arms  around  his  neck, 
and  press  her  moist,  sweet  lips  to  his,  with  a  child's  tender 
ness  and  trust.  She  might  be  reared  to  honor  and  happiness, 
and  the  dangers — the  imminent  hazard  of  ruin — might  be 
averted  from  her  young  life.  There  might  be  kind,  loving 
hands  to  close  his  eyes  in  death.  His  grave  might  not  be 
lonely.  Loving  ones  might  kneel  beside  the  mound  and 
raise  hopeful,  tender  eyes  to  the  blue  sky  where  his  soul  had 
winged  its  way.  The  fountain  of  tears  was  touched  by  the 
hand  of  innocence.  The  strong,  proud  man  was  subdued  by 
the  lily  sceptre  of  his  child.  His  lip  quivered,  and  the  peni 
tent  tears  gathered  to  his  eyes  as  he  bent  over  her.  A  drop, 
which  glistened  diamond-like  in  the  moonbeams,  fell  upon 
her  face.  She  still  slept  on.  Another  and  another  tear  fell 
upon  her,  and  she  awoke.  It  startled  her — the  strange,  hand 
some  face  so  close  to  her.  She  seemed  bewildered  for  an 
instant  as  she  rose  in  her  bed  to  look  at  him.  But  his 
coming  was  too  closely  linked  with  her  dream,  and  she  asked, 
hopefully,  "Are  you  my  father?  Did  my  dear  angel  send  you  ?" 

"  Yes !  yes !  my  little  one ;  I  am  your  father,"  he  mur 
mured. 

Without  another  word  of  doubt  or  hesitation  she  extended 
her  arms  and  put  up  her  face  to  his  kiss.  That  gentle  pres 
sure  of  her  lips  was  sweet  and  refreshing  to  his  awakened 
soul  as  a  bribe  from  Heaven  to  induce  him  to  a  pure  life. 
And  over  the  twain  the  guardian  angels  joined  their  wings 
as  they  knelt  above  them  in  prayer. 


STOBMCLIFF.  181 

"Oh!  do  not  leave  little  Zoe.  I  want  to  be  loved  like 
other  little  girls.  Will  you  stay  with  me  and  love  me?" 

"  I  will  not  be  gone  long  from  you  again,  my  child,"  he 
answered,  charmed  by  the  flute-like  melody  of  her  voice. 
"I  will  come  back  again.  I  must  go  away  soon;  but  I 
will  return.  You  must  watch,  for  me.  You  will  see  me 
some  day  coming  through  that  gate  yonder.  You  can  see 
the  gate  from  this  window.  Look  out  often  towards  that 
gate,  and  you  will  see  me  some  day.  I  will  never  leave 
you  then.  What  is  your  name,  my  child — what  do  they  call 
you  ?" 

She  had  raised  herself  to  her  knees,  and  put  her  arms 
around  his  neck.  She  was  gazing  wonderingly  into  his  face. 
She  answered  him,  eagerly  turning  to  look  over  his  shoulder 
at  his  promised  route  of  approach  in  the  future,  "The 
angels  told  me  you  would  come  through  that  gate — did  you?" 

"Yes,  I  rode  in  through  that  gate  to-night." 

"  Was  it  a  grey  horse  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Surely  it  was ;  how  could  you  know  that — did  you  see 
my  horse  ?"  he  exclaimed,  in  surprise, 

"  No !  I  didn't  see  any  horse,  but,  the  angels  told  me." 

"  Were  you  dreaming,  my  little  one,  that  they  told 
you  ?" 

"  Yes !  I  dreamed  ever  so  much.  I  dreamed  you  passed 
by  mamma,  and  you  didn't  see  her ;  but  she  saw  you,  and 
then  she  fell  down  on  the  ground  and  cried.  She  was  hid 
under  the  trees,  way  over  there  in  Mrs.  Baltimore's  park ;  and 
then  she  went  away,  and  she  left  something  under  the  trees 
— she  dropped  it.  Then  the  angels  told  me  you  was  comin' 
to  see  me  through  the  gate,  on  a  beautiful  grey  horse.  . 
Where  is  the  beautiful  horse?" 

"  This  was  a  singular  dream,  my  child — for  it  was  true — 
the  horse  is  behind  the  barn  now.  But  you  didn't  tell  me 
your  name." 

"They  call  me  Zoe — Zoe  Granville  is  my  name." 

Nicholas  Traver  started  back  from  the  child's  embrace,  as 


182  STOEMCLIFF. 

if  a  serpent  had  suddenly  struck  him.  "  Zoe  Granville !"  he 
exclaimed.  "  Zoe  Granville !  Who  has  dared  to  name  you 
that?" 

"  Oh !  don't  be  angry  with  little  Zoe,"  she  said,  piteously ; 
"mamma  named  me  that — she  said  it  was  chosen  for  me 
long  before  I  was  born." 

He  did  not  reply,  for  some  fearful  emotion  was  aroused  by 
the  name  which  swept  away  the  present  like  a  whirlwind. 
The  awful  surging  waves  of  the  past  came  rolling  over  his 
soul.  A  chasm  opened  at  his  feet,  and  memory  plunged 
headlong  into  the  abyss.  Down,  far  down  the  shadowy  aisles 
of  buried  •  years,  conscience  dragged  him  to  a  lonely  grave. 
The  long-deserted  mound  showed  distinctly  now.  Once  that 
grave  had  been  watered  by  his  tears — tears  from  a  wounded 
heart — honest,  truthful  tears.  Once  had  he  flung  himself  in 
the  abandonment  of  grief  upon  that  precious  mound,  and 
pressing  his  cheek  to  the  damp  grass,  vowed  before  God  and 
angels  to  live  worthy  of  the  sleeping  dust  which  had  been 
the  star  of  his  life ;  vowed  to  live  purely,  holily,  that  he  might 
join  her  in  the  glorious  hour  of  resurrection  and  eternal  re 
ward.  How  had  he  kept  that  vow  ?  The  answer  was  before 
him  in  the  startled  child  that  bore  her  sacred  name.  That 
sweet,  holy  name  was  perpetuated  in  his  bastard  child; 
that  name  which  had  melted  in  exquisite  sweetness  upon  the 
pure  air ;  that  precious  name,  synonymous  with  purity  and 
honor,  was  stamped  upon  the  child  of  sin  and  shame.  Oh! 
the  humiliation,  the  agony,  the  remorse  of  that  thought  to  a 
mind  keenly  sensitive  to  family  pride  and  family  love.  Whom 
could  he  blame  ? — upon  whom  could  he  wreak  vengeance  for 
this  desecration  of  that  dear  name  ?  Himself — himself  alone. 
When  he  wound  the  coils  of  his  fascination  about  that  lovely, 
trusting  girl's  heart,  when  he  offered  to  her  acceptance  the 
name  of  wife,  he  had  demanded  that  if  a  daughter  was  born 
to  their  nuptials  she  should  bear  the  maiden  name  of  his 
own  mother — his  sainted  mother  in  heaven.  How  could 
the  poor  creature,  ever  relying  with  idolatry  upon  the  sacred- 


STORMCLIFF.  183 

ness  of  his  promise  and  his  honor,,  do  otherwise  than  fulfil 
her  own  promise.  Believing  that  some  time  he  would  return 
to  marry  her,  as  he  had  sworn,  she  named  her  child  with 
mingled  hopes  and  tears. 

He  returned  to  the  child's  embrace  again,  as  some  gene 
rous  impulse  was  awakened  in  his  heart  by  this  touching  evi 
dence  of  her  mother's  trust  and  constancy  to  him.  There  is 
always  a  time  for  repentance,  a  time  for  reparation,  a  time  to 
start  once  more  on  the  path  of  rectitude — no  matter  how  far 
one  has  gone  astray.  The  impulses  of  reform  and  justice  are 
the  opportunities  God  sends.  There  is  always  a  something 
which  is  best,  and  just,  and  proper  to  be  done.  For  Nicholas 
Traver,  in  that  revival  hour  of  conscience,  there  was  a  clear 
path  to  pursue.  Marry  the  woman  who  had  sacrificed  all 
to  love  of  him.  She  was  his  equal  in  position  and  education 
and  refinement.  He  could  satisfy  the  claims  of  justice  by 
secretly  marrying  her  and  avowing  before  the  world  that  she 
was  his  wife  and  permit  that  world  to  infer  that  they  had 
always  legally  been  joined  together.  Then  Zoe  would  have 
a  claim  to  respect,  and  the  bleeding  heart  of  her  unfortunate 
mother  would  be  soothed.  No  doubt  the  demand  of  justice 
was  hard.  The  penalty  of  sin  is  always  hard.  But  the 
anger  of  God  is  harder  still.  Better  far  was  it  to  conciliate 
the  Ruler  of  Heaven  now.  The  impulse  to  repent  and  do 
right  waxed  in  power,  and  Nicholas  Traver  resolved  to 
accept  the  opportunity. 

He  knew  not  how  long  he  tarried  with  his  child  at  the 
window.  Her  winning  voice,  her  increasing  confidence  in 
her  newly  found  parent,  her  avowal  of  her  strange  visions 
of  the  spiritual  world,  all  held  him  captive  beside  her.  The 
tendrils  of  affection  strengthened  and  lengthened  every 
moment  as  they  talked,  and  he  forgot  the  anxieties  and  ap 
prehensions  which  had  sent  him  forth  from  "The  Glen" 
on  his  lonely  night  ride.  But  at  length  he  was  aroused  to 
consciousness  of  the  late  hour  by  the  moon  falling  below  the 
horizon.  It  was  nearly  morning.  It  excited  his  wonder 


184  STOKMCLIFF. 

when  Zoe  informed  him  that  her  mother  had  gone  out  late 
to  walk,  as  was  her  custom.  The  little  girl  was  confident 
that  she  must  be  walking  in  the  park  of  "  The  Glen,"  for  so 
her  dear  angels  had  informed  her  that  night.  Hoping  to 
meet  his  former  ward  on  the  highway,  as  he  deemed  it  im 
possible  for  her  to  gain  access  to  the*  park  except  through 
the  gate  at  the  porter's  lodge,  he  bade  his  child  farewell, 
and  turned  away  from  the  window.  When  he  reached  the 
barns  he  looked  back  and  saw  the  little  figure  in  her  night 
dress,  standing  before  the  window,  as  if  to  secure  a  last 
glimpse  of  his  receding  form.  "  Poor  little  darling  fairy,"  he 
muttered,  "  she  must  be  reared  a  lady,  and  never  know  of 
shame  and  reproach."  In  another  moment  he  had  regained 
his  saddle,  and  with  difficulty  found  his  road  to  the  gate  in 
the  darkness. 

When  he  had  reached  the  highway  he  walked  his  horse 
slowly  along  towards  "  The  Glen,"  narrowly  examining 
every  object  on  his  way.  He  paused  often  to  listen,  but  no 
sound  rewarded  his  vigilance.  No  one  was  walking  on  the 
road.  Could  it  be  possible  that  the  child's  dream  was  cor 
rect,  and  that  her  mother  was  really  in  the  park  ?  He  would 
question  the  porter.  No  one  could  enter  that  gate  unno 
ticed.  Continuing  his  vigilance  and  inspection  of  the  road, 
he  finally  arrived  at  the  lodge.  After  considerable  delay 
in  arousing  the  custodian  of  the  gate,  he  was  admitted  to  the 
park.  In  reply  to  his  inquiry,  the  porter  informed  him  that 
no  one  but  himself  had  passed  the  gate  after  sunset.  He 
rode  on  then  under  the  oaks  and  maples,  and  the  porter 
went  off  to  bed  grumbling  at  the  unreasonableness  of  peo 
ple  in  being  out  at  such  strange  hours  of  the  night.  The 
horseman  continued  his  slow  and  vigilant  pace  through  the 
park.  When  he  was  near  the  front  of  the  mansion,  he  halted 
and  listened  attentively  for  several  minutes.  No  sound  met 
his  ear.  It  was  the  silent  hour  which  precedes  the  dawn. 
He  made  the  circuit  of  the  mansion  and  arrived  at  the  stables, 
apparently  unnoticed.  He  conducted  his  horse  to  the  stall 


STOKMCLIFF.  ]  85 

from  which  he  had  taken  him,  and  finding  that  he  had 
aroused  the  hostler,  he  went  to  him,  and  enjoining  upon  him 
silence  as  to  the  night  expedition,  slipped  into  his  hand  a 
silver  dollar.  Then  he  cautiously  approached  his  apart 
ments.  Congratulating  himself  upon  the  secresy  which  had 
attended  his  movements,  he  was  on  the  point  of  opening  the 
door  under  his  porch,  when  a  broad  glare  of  light  was  flung 
upon  him  from  a  lantern  suddenly  thrust  from  one  of  the 
upper  windows  of  the  front  house.  Before  he  could  turn  to 
identify  the  holder  of  the  lantern,  the  light  was  withdrawn. 
He  could  see  its  departing  rays  dancing  on  the  ceiling  of  the 
upper  room  as  the  unknown  watcher  passed  on  into  the 
house.  He  believed  it  could  be  no  other  than  the  old  nurse 
who  had  dogged  his  footsteps  in  the  garden. 


CHAPTER  XVH. 

THE  blended  songs  of  the  early  birds  greeted  the  rising  sun. 
From  their  leafy  coverts  they  warbled  the  glad  tidings  of  a 
new-born  day,  or,  wheeling  their  musical  flights  over  the 
garden,  alighted  at  intervals  upon  the  shrubbery ;  where, 
poised  on  fairy  feet,  they  balanced  and  swung  in  the  welcome 
rays  streaming  aslant  from  the  orient.  The  flowers  looked 
up  and  smiled,  the  shadows  fled,  the  dew  gave  forth  its 
glistening  tears  of  joy,  then  vanished  in  the  increasing 
warmth.  Higher  and  higher  ascended  the  sun  over  the 
silent  garden,  and  found  no  visitor  upon  the  carefully  swept 
and  curving  paths  between  the  flowers,  save  the  aged  gar 
dener,  who  vigorously  plied  his  hoe  among  the  beds,  or  rested 
at  intervals  to  scan  the  glorious  beauty  of  his  silent  com 
panions.  Born  and  bred  to  the  society  of  flowers,  the  old 
man  had  learned  to  talk  to  them  as  to  pet  children.  He 


186  6TOEMCLUT. 

clothed  them  with  human  attributes ;  he  delicately  soothed 
their  sensitive  natures,  and  nursed  their  young  life  with  ten 
derness  and  pride,  or  mourned  in  accents  of  sadness  over 
their  drooping  death.  When  they  faded  and  died  on  their 
stems,  he  was  wont  to  look  heavenward,  as  if  he  hoped  their 
gentle  spirits  bloomed  again  beside  the  golden  streets  of 
Paradise,  in  more  exquisite  beauty. 

He  had  chosen  a  warm  and  sheltered  spot  on  the  south 
side  of  the  largest  greenhouse  for  his  darling  exotics.  Proud 
and  happy  to  occupy  again  his  old  place  of  custodian  of  the 
flowers,  he  was  determined,  by  constancy  and  excessive  care, 
to  raise  in  the  open  air  a  brilliant  circle  of  roses  native  to  a 
more  southern  clime.  He  had  succeeded  beyond  his  most 
sanguine  expectations,  and  while  the  great  gardens  under  his 
care  bloomed  with  clusters  and  trellises  of  native  roses  on 
every  hand,  this  favored  spot  was  glowing  with  the  rich 
colors  and  graceful  figures  of  the  southern  strangers.  The 
dew  had  scarcely  dried  on  their  crimson  and  scarlet  leaves 
as  he  stood  over  them,  studying  their  loveliness  and  matur 
ing  his  plans  to  preserve  them  until  the  new  mistress  of 
"The  Glen"  should  look  upon  their  rare  beauty.  As  he 
leaned  upon  his  hoe,  and  wondered  whether  the  new  pro 
prietor  possessed  taste  enough  to  appreciate  the  delicate  task 
of  his  hands,  and  would  sympathize  with  his  old  heart  in  his 
adoration  of  nature,  he  was  startled  by  a  footstep  close  beside 
him.  Turning,  he  beheld  a  lady  robed  in  a  dark  dress,  who 
was  contemplating  him  with  eyes  large,  brilliant,  and  beauti 
ful.  In  the  backward  sweep  of  her  glistening  black  hair 
clung  a  white  rose.  She  wore  the  garb  of  a  mourner,  and 
the  language  of  the  contrasting  flower  is  "  sadness." 

A  lady  of  refined  taste  satisfies  her  curiosity  by  a  rapid 
penetrating  glance.  The  eyelashes  of  the  stranger  slightly 
drooped  again  as  she  quietly  asked : 

"  Are  you  Weaver,  the  former  gardener  of  the  Baltimore 
family?" 

"  Yes — yes !  my  lady,"   replied  the  old  man,   nervously 


STOKMCLIFF.  18*7 

raising  his  hand  to  his  straw  hat,  "  that's  my  name — Nathan 
Weaver's  my  name,  and  I've  worked  these  gardens,  I've  no 
doubt,  many  a  year  afore  your  eyes  saw  the  light.  I've 
grown  up  on  this  property  like  one  of  those  trees  you  see 
yunder — I  sort  of  belong  to  the  place.  'Twas  allers  my 
home.  I  seldom  lived  a  day  off  this  place,  madam — sel 
dom  a  day  till  the  last  Mister  Baltimore  went  abroad." 

He  stole  several  glances  at  the  interrogator  as  he  spoke, 
and  the  impressions  her  personal  appearance  created  were 
favorable,  for  he  removed  his  hat  entirely  from  his  head,  and 
bowing  low  at  the  conclusion  of  his  reply,  he  said  : 

"  I  am  addressing,  I  believe,  my  new  mistress,  Mrs.  Balti 
more  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  answered,  "  I  am  Mrs.  Baltimore.  I  could  not 
sleep,  and  I  thought  a  walk  in  the  fresh  early  air  of  the 
morning  might  revive  me.  But  what  exquisite  roses  have 
you  there  ?  They  don't  look  like  the  flowers  I  »have  been 
accustomed  to  look  upon  in  this  latitude." 

"  They're  southern  roses,  madam,"  he  replied,  replacing 
his  hat  on  his  head,  and  stooping  to  brush  off  a  worm  which, 
made  its  appearance  upon  the  edge  of  a  rose-bud.  "They 
allers  raises  'em  in  green-houses  as  far  north  as  this.  But 
you  see  I  thought  it  would  be  a  compliment  like,  to  treat  the 
new  mistress  to  a  bed  of  rare  flowers  raised  in  the  open  air. 
I've  worked  my  reglar  time  in  the  open  garden,  and  then 
after  hours,  I  turned  my  attention  and  care  to  these.  I've 
watched  close,  my  lady,  these  delicate  creeters,  so  as  to  have 
'em  live.  Some  ladies  has  more  taste  nor  others  about  flowers, 
and  old  Weaver  feels  proud  for  your  noticing  'em.  Indeed 
I  do— indeed  I  do.  You  spoke  true  when  you  said  they  was 
excrisite — they  is  the  most  excrisite  flowers  as  ever  was  seen 
on  this  property.  Let  me  pluck  one  for  you ;  they  can't  last 
long  now,  and  you  must  examine  'em  close.  This  'ere  is  the 
'  Giant  of  Battles ;'  just  look  at  that  shade  of  crimson — 
bright  crimson  velvet  I'd  call  it ;  now  what  a  color  for  a 
dress — -jest  you  look  at  it  and  smoothe  your  fingers  over  the 


188  STOKMCLIFF. 

leaves  ;  isn't  it  a  beauty.  You  keep  it — I'll  find  some  more 
to  put  with  it;  'ere  is  the  darlin'  rose — 'ere  is  the  very  lady 
herself,  Marie  Leonidas." 

He  moved  a  few  paces  along  the  path,  and  with  his  garden 
shears  severed  from  a  bush  a  waxy-white  rose  with  small,  dark, 
and  shining  leaves,  also  waxy  in  appearance.  Presenting  the 
flower  to  Mrs.  Baltimore,  he  said,  enthusiastically,  "There, 
now,  you  have  the  red  giant  and  his  fair  lady.  Please  notice 
that  cluster  of  the  Giant  of  Battles.  See  how  the  flowers 
bloom  high  on  the  stem,  holding  their  heads  high  among  the 
other  roses.  That's  the  reason  they  calls  'em  Giants.  I  sup 
pose  the  rest  of  the  name  comes  from  their  crimson  color — 
Battle  red,  ma'am.  That's  the  color  Christians  marks  on  each 
other  when  they  goes  to  war — dreadful  business  these  Chris 
tian  wars,  ma'am,  dreadful  indeed ;  but  jest  see  this  rose  ; 
this  they  calls  the  Solfaterre  rose — the  creamy  white  Solfa- 
terre — that's  the  exact  name.  You  see,  ma'am,  the  flower  is 
large  and  so  unusually  soft ;  now  look  at  those  leaves.  You 
see  next  to  the  stalk  they  're  soft  green,  but  not  shiny  green. 
As  they  extend  towards  the  end  of  the  branch,  they  change 
gradually  from  green  to  a  transparent  brown.  You  see  at 
this  end  of  the  branch  they  're  very  small  leaves,  and  quite 
brown.  And  here's  a  fresh  bud  for  you ;  this  is  the  pink 
daily  rose — every  day  a  fresh  bud.  They  is  truly  beautiful 
in  the  bud,  but  not  much  when  full  blown  ;  like  some  girls, 
ma'am,  they  promise  well,  but  the  storms  of  life  shakes  their 
color  and  beauty  out  of  'em  right  early.  Was  you  askin' 
the  name  of  this  large  pink  rose?  That's  'La  Heine* — 
deep  pink  petals,  very  double  and  tight  together — it  don't 
lose  its  shape  and  grow  flat  and  flabby  at  the  bottom,  like 
other  roses.  It  holds  itself  firm  and  erect  to  the  last  in  most 
a  bowl  form,  as  if,  ma'am,  it  never  forgets  its  dignity ;  that's 
how  she  gets  her  name.  I  don't  wonder  at  your  taste,  ma'am ; 
you  shall  have  one  of  that  ar'  kind.  That  I'd  call  a  velvety 
crimson ;  they  call  it — let  me  see  ef  I  can  speak  it  now — 
'  Jacqueminot.'  Is  that  right,  ma'am  ?  I  most  believe  it's 


STORM  CLIFF.  189 

called  for  a  French  general ;  of  course  you  know,  my  lady. 
Yes,  well !  I  'sposed  I  was  right.  You're  right,  ma'am.  I'll 
pick  one  of  those  for  you  ;  they  calls  that  the  '  Souvenir  de 
mon  ami '  rose.  Now,  how  sweet  that  is  as  you  hold  it  up 
to  the  light — rich  pink  centre,  shading  into  a  salmon  color, 
and  ye  see  that  salmon  shades  outward  agin  into  a  light 
cream  color.  Do  ye  notice,  ma'am,  the  green  leaves  are 
shaded  like  the  leaves  of  that  Solfaterre  rose — that  creamy 
white  Solfaterre  ?  And  here's  a  Luxembourg,  and  here's  a 
Hermosa  rose  ;  you  must  have  these  to  make  the  bouquet 
kimplete.  And  here's  another — a  small  white  satin  rose — 
that's  the  '  Lady  Walworth.'  Now  your  bouquet  looks  splen 
did,  and  Old  Weaver's  proud  to  see  ye  carryin'  it.  Now  ef 
ye  will  please  step  this  'ere  way,  I'll  show  ye  the  waterfall — 
that's  what  I  calls  it." 

Moving  along  after  the  old  man,  with  his  shears  and  hoe, 
Mrs.  Baltimore  came  to  a  lofty  trellis  built  at  the  end  of  the 
green-house.  There  was  a  striking  resemblance  to  a  rosy 
waterfall  in  the  mass  of  transparent  white  roses  which  clung  to 
the  trellis.  "  They're  Baltimore  belles — that's  the  name — and 
each  one  is  as  fair  and  delicate  as  a  bride.  I  had  a  heap  of 
trouble  in  raisin'  those  roses,  for  they  belongs  further  south 
nor  this.'' 

The  lady  had  followed  the  old  man  around  the  circle, 
amused  at  his  enthusiasm,  and  suffering  him  to  talk  on,  with 
little  interruption,  as  he  plucked  the  rare  flowers  and  placed 
them  in  her  hand.  But  when  her  eyes  took  in  the  wonder 
ful  shower  of  roses  which  fell  from  the  trellis,  she  exclaimed, 
"Weaver,  you  are  a  gem — a  real  gem.  I  wouldn't  lose 
your  good  taste  in  growing  flowers  for  the  world.  This  is  a 
treat  for  me,  and  I  thank  you.  Oh !  how  much  I  thank  you 
for  your  trouble." 

The  old  man  fairly  trembled  with  excitement.  His  trouble 
and  his  faithful  watching  had  not  been  thrown  away  then. 
She  appreciated  the  labor  of  his  aged  hands.  He  answered 
her  with  a  smile  of  joy  and  pride. 


1 90  STOBMCLIFF. 

"  I  kin  tell  when  I  see  a  lady,  and  I  knew  ye  would  love 
the  flowers  when  I  looked  into  your  eyes.  But  I  niver  was 
called  a  gem  afore.  Old  Weaver  ain't  much  like  a  gem — the 
settin'  amost  wore  out,  and  the  soul  as  is  in  me  is  dim  with 
age  ;  but  there's  a  true  heart  in  here,  ma'am,  and  it  will  serve 
ye  till  the  sods  is  heaped  up  on  my  body.  It's  very  kind  of 
ye  to  speak  so  to  the  old  man  that  strives  to  do  his  duty, 
and  I  pray  the  Lord  to  spare  yer  life  and  make  ye  happy, 
and » 

He  tried  right  valiantly  to  carry  out  his  sentence,  but  she 
had  touched  his  tender  old  heart,  and  his  lips  murmured  to 
wards  the  close.  Then,  making  an  effort  to  control  his  feel 
ings,  he  looked  up  and  said : 

"  And  so  it  appears  ye  love  natiir  like  some  other  folks  do, 
and  the  flowers  and  the  grass  and  the  trees  is  a  comfort  to 
ye  sometimes." 

Love  nature  ?  The  question  awoke  some  powerful  emo 
tion  in  those  dark  eyes.  Does  the  mother,  from  whom  death 
has  snatched  every  idol  but  one,  love  the  graceful  child  who 
comes  in  the  stillness  of  the  evening  to  stand  by  her  side, 
and  putting  its  little  hand  in  hers,  says,  by  its  silence  and 
attitude,  "  I  love  you  ?  "  Does  the  thirsty  pilgrim  of  the 
desert,  fainting  and  deserted  by  his  companions,  love  the 
shady  dell  which  unexpectedly  rises  upon  his  vision  and  tells 
of  the  crystal  water  which  nourishes  its  verdure  ?  Does  the 
wanderer  in  a  strange  land  love  the  familiar  notes  of  a  home- 
song,  which  greet  him  in  his  loneliness,  and  fill  his  eyes  with 
tears  ?  Then  did  the  heart  of  the  young  widow  love  and 
exult  in  the  simple  word  pronounced  by  the  aged  gardener 
as  he  leaned  upon  his  hoe,  and  waited  for  her  reply.  To 
whom  could  she  turn  for  sympathy  and  love  ?  She,  the 
child  torn  from  home  in  her  tender--  years,  and  while  her 
young  soul  was  yearning  to  believe  only  in  the  existence  of 
honor  and  truth,  sacrificed  to  old  age  and  meanness !  The 
nobler  feelings  of  her  nature  had  been  appealed  to,  and  she 
had  proved  herself,  child  as  she  was,  equal  to  any  demand.  To 


STOKMCLIFF.  191 

save  her  beloved  father's  life,  the  young  girl  had  gone  forth 
to  the  martyrdom  of  all  the  hope  and  pride  and  aifection  of 
maidenhood.  The  pure  wreath  of  coming  love  and  tender 
ness  which  every  girl  of  fifteen  sees  pendent  from  the  palace 
of  the  'future,  she  had  laid  upon  the  altar  of  filial  aifection. 
Such  was  her  unbounded  faith  in  her  father's  nobility  of 
character,  that  she  had  accepted  the  mysterious  crown  of 
thorns,  and  for  six  weary  years  worn  it  in  unquestioning 
silence.  She  had  never  known  her  mother's  love.  ^The  bud 
had  appeared  but  an  instant  on  the  bush,  when  the  full 
blown  rose  fell  to  its  grave.  The  brother  to  whom  she  had 
looked  across  the  seas  for  future  solace  and  sympathy,  had 
mysteriously  fallen  murdered  to  the  earth.  Then  she  turned 
to  her  sole  surviving  relative  for  whom  she  had  sacrificed  so 
much,  and  expected,  now  that  her  husband  had  passed  away, 
the  reward  of  full  confidence  and  entire  explanation.  Alas  ! 
her  father  was  as  mysterious  and  reticent  as  ever.  Then  the 
developed  powers  of  intellect  and  reason  asserted  their  sway. 
"Why  had  she  been  sacrificed  ?  Why  was  she  still  a  victim 
of  the  mysterious  darkness  ?  Why  was  she  not,  now  in  her 
young  womanhood,  entitled  to  confidence  and  trust  ?  She 
had  lived  a  slave  to  rescue  her  parent.  She  had  been 
trampled  upon  for  his  sake.  Her  pride  and  self-respect  had 
been  mutilated  to  save  him  ;  and  now  was  the  time  to  speak. 
His  evasions  and  postponements  were  unjust  now.  She  had 
returned  triumphant  and  superior  from  the  ordeal  of  her 
repulsive  marriage,  and  she  could  claim  entire  confidence 
r  and  love  from  the  only  relative  she  possessed  on  this  side  the 
grave.  But  the  confidence  was  denied  her  ;  and  her  sensi 
tive  soul  shrank  back  into  itself,  and  suspicion  wreathed 
itself  about  the  portals  of  her  heart.  The  consciousness  of 
evil  erected  a  barrier  between  the  parent  and  his  child  ;  and 
she,  who  had  been  willing  to  deny  herself  all,  would  not  be 
denied  all  in  return.  With  a  cry  of  mortal  agony,  she 
parted  from  him  and  the  interview,  and  fell  down  moan 
ing  upon  the  desert  of  her  lonely  life.  Oh  !  she  could  be  so 


192  STORMCLIFF. 

happy  with  him  if  he  would  only  sympathize  and  confide ; 
but,  alas !  he  would  not ;  he  dare  not  speak.  Then  the 
wealth  which  had  promised  so  much,  lost  its  illusions.  The 
poor  creature  craved  sympathy  and  love.  For  these  she 
would  willingly  deed  to  him  all  her  lands,  her  possessions, 
and  her  treasures.  As  the  hope  of  securing  these  gradually 
faded  away,  and  she  felt  that  she  was  indeed  alone  in  the 
world,  the  voices  of  nature  broke  from  the  thickets.  The 
warble  of  God's  little  birds  called  to  her.  His  graceful 
flowers  nodded  welcome  to  her;  the  trees  whispered  to  her, 
and  the  brooks  sang.  Mounted  on  her  snow-white  steed, 
and  attended  only  by  the  dog  Bounce,  she  penetrated  the 
wild  places,  and  scaled  the  cliffs.  Here  was  congenial  nou 
rishment  for  her  great  soul.  She  looked  downwards  to  the 
river  and  the  haunts  of  men,  or  her  eye  followed  the  flight 
of  the  eagle  as  he  disappeared  in  the  blue  vault  of  heaven. 
These  sublime  views  enlarged  her  soul,  aroused  her  generous 
impulses,  spoke  to  her  of  God  and  eternity.  They  partially 
supplied  the  void  in  her  heart,  and  she  learned  self-reliance 
and  self-control.  Nature  bounteously  rewards  those  who 
commune  closely  with  her  and  study  her  mysteries,  and 
sometimes  startles  her  worshippers  by  the  blinding  vision  of 
God  revealed  in  his  works. 

Mrs.  Baltimore  learned  from  her  communings  with  the  sub 
lime  and  the  beautiful  the  lesson  of  humanity.  A  God  capa 
ble  of  such  wonderful  creations — so  vast,  and  yet  so  minute 
— so  diverse,  and  yet  so  tenderly  defended  and  nourished 
in  the  detail,  must  claim  equal  care  for  His  creations  from 
the  hands  of  mortals.  Respect  and  care  for  His  creations 
must  increase  with  the  value  and  importance  of  the  object 
created.  Human  beings  delicately  framed  and  endowed 
with  the  attributes  of  angels,  and  fashioned  for  immortality, 
must  be  cared  for  as  the  heirs  of  the  kingdom.  Whenever 
she  returned  from  her  wild  rides  among  the  cliffs,  or  from 
the  elevated  plateau  where  she  could  look  more  closely  into 
the  blue  vault  of  heaven,  it  was  noticed  that  her  purse 


STORMCLIFF.  193 

opened  wider,  her  voice  was  more  sweetly  modulated,  and 
her  eyes  burned  with  a  more  sympathetic  lambent  light. 
She  had  been  a  little  nearer  to  Heaven,  and  her  heart  had 
caught  a  spark  which  fell  from  the  altars  of  its  charity. 

Old  Weaver  knew  nothing  of  this,  however.  She  had  been 
a  tenant  at  "  The  Glen "  only  a  few  weeks,  and  had  not  be 
fore  made  her  appearance  upon  his  precincts.  He  was  both 
astonished  and  delighted  then  by  her  reply  to  his  remark. 

"  Yes !  nature  is  my  delight,  and  my  constant  source  of 
pleasure  and  consolation.  I  love  art;  I  love  music,  too,  which 
is  the  highest  manifestation  of  art.  But  that  which  germi 
nates  and  grows,  and  droops  in  graceful  figures,  without  the 
fashioning  of  human  hands — that  is  my  joy  and  careful  study; 
for  it  is  more  especially  the  work  of  God.  I  wonder  if  the 
angels  don't  descend  and  nurse  these  rare  flowers !  It  would 
seem  that  only  an  angel's  delicate  hands  could  curve  this 
rose-leaf  so  accurately  and  so  beautifully." 

She  placed  her  finger  upon  a  flower  in  her  bouquet  as  she 
spoke,  and  gently  stroked  the  velvet  of  its  crimson  leaf. 
Observing,  after  a  silence  of  a  few  minutes,  that  her  com 
panion  made  no  reply,  she  raised  her  eyes  from  the  flower. 
The  old  man  was  steadily  regarding  her.  She  fancied  his 
eyes  wore  an  inquiring  expression,  for  she  said  quickly : 

"You  look  as  if  you  wanted  to  ask  me  something.  Do 
not  hesitate  to  express  your  wishes  or  your  curiosity." 

"  You  are  very  quick,  my  lady,"  said  the  amazed  gardener. 
"You  read  people's  thoughts  so  quick.  I  only  wanted  to 
ask  a  little  favor,  that  perhaps  ye  would  be  willing  to  grant 
an  old  servant." 

"  Speak  it  out,"  was  the  prompt  response. 

Thus  encouraged,  he  began:  "In  the  parlor  of  the  old 
house,  if  it  please  ye  to  remember,  there  hangs  a  portrait  of 
a  lady." 

"  The  portraits  of  several  ladies  hang  there,"  was  the  quick 
rejoinder.  "  Which  one  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I'll  tell  ye,  my  lady.     It  is  a  picture  as  one  can't  well 


1 94  STOEMCLIFF. 

forgit  that's  ever  looked  on  it.  The  dress  and  all  is  mighty 
curious ;  I  never  looked  on  its  like.  The  frame  is  amost 
worn  out.  The  lady  has  curling  hair  and  the  queerest  three- 
cornered  cap  on  top  of  her  head  that  I  ever  laid  eyes  on — 
it's  velvet,  I  should  say,  and  there's  tossels  hangin'  from  the 
corners  of  it." 

"  You  are  certainly  mistaken,  Weaver,"  was  her  answer. 
"  There  is  no  such  picture  in  the  house.  Perhaps  you  have 
mistaken  the  locality." 

The  old  man  shook  his  head,  while  a  smile  illumined  his 
aged  and  wrinkled  features. 

"  No,  no,  my  lady !  I'm  old,  it's  true,  and  some  old  peo 
ple  forgits.  But  Nathan  Weaver  is  reputed  the  best  man  to 
remember  in  this  neighborhood.  And  it's  not  many  years 
since  I  looked  upon  the  picture.  If  me  mem'ry  serves  me 
right,  I  seen  the  lady's  face  hangin'  in  yunder  parlor  jest 
afore  the  last  Mister  Baltimore  packed  up  his  things  to  cross 
the  seas.  'Twas  close  upon  that  time,  anyway.  The  picture, 
by  rights,  should  be  hangin'  there  now.  It  wud  be  mighty 
strange  ef  your  ladyship  has  crossed  the  floor  of  that  room 
and  never  took  notice  of  the  queer  dress  and  the  three-cor 
nered  cap.  It's  there,  ma'am,  trust  me  word  for  it.  Me  eyes 
hasn't  seen  it  these  six  years ;  but  no  person  wud  think  of 
removin'  the  lady's  face  from  the  house,  except  it  was  to  put 
a  new  frame  onto  it.  Now  ef  old  Weaver  can  presume  upon 
yer  kindness,  I'd  like  to  look  upon  that  face  agin.  She  was 
kind  to  me  father  when  he  worked  this  same  gardin  afore 
me.  I  often  heard  him  say  she  were  the  splendidest  lady 
of  her  time.  She  kept  up  the  dignity  of  this  place  like  a 
princess.  She  were  mighty  proud,  they  say,  consarning  her 
family.  She  were  the  grandest  Baltimore  that  ever  walked 
through  this  ere  gardin.  But  me  father — he  told  me  most 
everybody  loved  her.  She  were  not  so  grand  but  that  she 
had  a  good  heart.  She  were  kind  to  the  poor  folks;  and 
the  old  people  like  me  father  wud  tell  of  the  grand  things  she 
did.  Perhaps,  me  lady,  my  discourse  is  not  pleasing  to  ye  ?  " 


STORMCLIFF.  195 

He  had  detected  a  serious  expression  cross  her  features, 
nnd  feared  he  had  presumed  too  much  upon  her  listening  to 
his  gossip.  But  she  bade  him  go  on  and  describe  the  eyes 
of  the  portrait. 

"Dark  eyes,  my  lady,  dark,  and  sort  of  lookin'  right  into 
you.  But  it  is  strange  ef  yer  eyes  has  overlooked  the  pic 
ture.  The  cap  is  so  queer,  and  the  like  of  it  few  of  the  old 
people  in  these  parts  kin  remember." 

"  Weaver,  you  are  certainly  mistaken.  I  always  study, 
with  a  great  deal  of  interest,  old  family  portraits.  I  have 
examined  carefully  every  one  in  this  house,  and  there  is 
nothing  like  the  one  you  speak  of." 

"  It  don't  become  me  to  dispute  with  your  ladyship ;  but 
I  will  say  ef  the  picture  of  Mrs.  Gertrude  Baltimore  has  bin 
removed  from  the  gallery  of  paintings  of  her  proud  family, 
it's  enough  to  wake  the  dead.  Will  ye  please  to  look  once 
more  at  the  pictures,  jest  to  gratify  an  old  man?  It  will 
reward  ye  for  the  trouble  jest  to  look  upon  the  queer  thing." 

His  confidence  in  the  truth  of  his  assertions  amused  Mrs. 
Baltimore ;  and  she  said,  pleasantly : 

"  Well,  lay  aside  your  hoe  and  shears  and  come  with  me, 
and  see  if  you  are  able  to  point  out  the  picture  to  me :  there 
must  be  something  strange  about  the  matter." 

She  walked  on  leisurely  towards  the  house,  bearing  her 
choice  bouquet  and  enjoying  the  fresh'  odors  of  the  early 
morning.  The  old  man,  having  laid  aside  his  garden  tools, 
and  divested  himself  of  his  overalls,  went  to  a  fountain  to 
wash  the  dirt  from  his  hands.  In  a  few  moments  be  had 
overtaken  bis  mistress  at  the  old  stone  porch  of  the  Balti- 
mores.  He  gave  his  shoes  one  more  thorough  wiping  upon 
the  grass-plat,  and  then  reverently  removing  his  hat  entered 
the  ancient  dwelling  after  her.  She  had  flung  open  the  shut 
ters  of  the  parlor  and  the  morning  sun  poured  into  the  long 
apartment.  She  now  stood  quietly  in  the  centre  of  the  room 
watching  the  old  man's  movements.  He  advanced  confi 
dently  to  a  portrait  of  her  late  husband  and  glanced  at  the 


196  STORJfCLIFF. 

wall  on  either  side  of  it.  He  raised  his  aged  weather-beaten 
hand  to  shield  his  eyes  and  looked  slowly  and  carefully 
through  the  entire  apartment.  He  desisted  from  his  search, 
and  said,  completely  baffled,  as  he  pointed  to  a  place  on  the 
wall :  "  It's  gone,  sure  enough ;  but  I'll  take  me  Bible-oath 
there's  the  place  I  saw  it  last.  It  passes  all  the  power  of 
me  old  brains  to  think  what  kin  have  become  of  it.  It's 
sacrilege,  my  lady !  It's  wicked  for  man  or  woman  to  take 
away  the  like  of  that,  and  Nathan  "Weaver's  the  man  that 
says  it.  Ef  I  was  in  yer  place  I'd  ask;  but  never  mind, 
I'm  a  ridiculous  old  man,  and  I  feel  as  ef  I'd  made  a  fool  of 
myself — that  I  do.  Well,  well !  but  it's  queer  enough  !" 

He  had  been  on  the  point  of  putting  his  mistress  on  the 
proper  track  of  inquiry,  but  a  quick  consciousness  saved 
him,  and  he  concluded  to  let  matters  take  their  own  course. 
It  was  evident  that  he  had  introduced  trouble  into  the  old 
house,  and  a  pang  of  regret  darted  through  his  heart  at  the 
reflection  that  he  might  have  been  the  cause  of  securing  cen 
sure  for  his  friend,  old  Nora.  If  any  one  was  held  responsi 
ble  for  the  loss  of  the  picture,  it  would  surely  be  she,  or  the 
tenant  who  protected  the  property  before  her.  But  this 
reticence  came  too  late.  The  mistress  of  the  house  was 
aroused,  and  she  always  acted  promptly.  Requesting  the 
dismayed  old  gardener  to  wait,  she  advanced  to  the  servants' 
bell  and  rang  it  with  decided  vehemence.  Mrs.  Grace  Balti 
more  was  possessed  of  unquestionable  promptness  in  arranging 
her  domestic  affairs.  Some  one  had  transgressed  the  law  of 
order  in  removing  the  portrait.  The  sooner  the  law  was  vin 
dicated,  the  better  for  the  security  of  the  future.  A  man 
servant  answered  the  bell.  He  looked  surprised  to  see  his 
mistress  so  early  in  the  morning,  He  bowed  in  the  doorway, 
and  said  :  "  Tour  pleasure,  madam  ?" 

"  Go  directly  and  inform  all  the  servants  that  I  am  waiting 
for  them  in  the  parlor  ;  I  mean  all,  except  the  servants  of  my 
guests." 

"  They're  not  all  up  yet ;  it's  early,  ma'am." 


8TOEMCLIFF.  197 

"  Make  them  get  up,  then ;  it's  time  they  were  all  at  their 
work.  Do  they  rise  at  this  hour  every  morning  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"Very  well.  I  want  their  attendance  here  directly.  I 
will  wait  for  them." 

The  servant  disappeared.  During  his  absence  old  Weaver 
looked  the  picture  of  despair.  It  was  dawning  upon  his 
brain  that  the  portrait  of  Gertrude  Baltimore  might  have 
been  removed  by  Nora  Rudd,  who  loved  her  memory 
dearly.  Mrs.  Baltimore  paced  up  and  down  the  apartment, 
pondering  the  matter,  evidently,  for  she  turned  once  to 
the  gardener  and  asked :  "  You  are  quite  sure  the  portrait 
hung  beside  the  picture  of  my  husband  ?" 

"  Just  there,  my  lady ;  I've  seen  it  often,  and  it  allers 
was  in  the  same  place,"  replied  the  old  man,  dreadfully  per 
plexed  as  to  the  probable  result  of  his  ill-timed  curiosity. 
He  could  not  but  observe,  however,  how  gracefully  the  young 
widow  moved  back  and  forth  amid  the  new  and  elegant  fur 
niture  of  the  room,  and  he  wondered  what  the  ancient  por 
traits  of  the  proud  family  could  think  of  the  new  mistress, 
who  appeared  so  perfectly  at  home  as  she  swept  her  dark 
train  along  their  ancient  heritage.  She  was  a  living  picture, 
fresh  and  exhilarated  by  the  pure  air  of  the  morning.  A 
peach-flush  lingered  upon  her  cheeks,  and  the  sunbeams 
glistened  upon  her  silken  hair  where  the  white  rose  clung. 
She  retained  possession  of  her  rare  bouquet,  and  occasion 
ally  raised  it  to  enjoy  its  fragrance. 

They  had  not  to  wait  long.  Indications  of  an  aroused 
household  were  accumulating  in  the  distant  parts  of  the 
mansion.  Opening  and  shutting  of  doors  were  followed 
soon  after  by  the  appearance  of  several  servants  of  both 
sexes.  When  they  were  all  assembled,  Mrs.  Baltimore 
requested  Weaver  to  describe  the  missing  portrait  as  accu 
rately  as  he  was  able.  He  complied  with  the  request,  and 
then  the  mistress  of  the  house  demanded  of  the  assembled 
servants  any  information  they  might  possess  in  regard  to  it. 


1 98  STORMCLIFF. 

One  of  the  maids  declared  that  she  had  been  present  at  "The 
Glen"  from  the  first  ;  that  she  was  employed  by  Mrs.  Rudd 
to  clean  the  family  pictures,  and  that  no  such  portrait  of  a 
lady  had  been  at  any  time  in  the  house  since  her  arrival. 
This  appeared  to  settle  the  matter  as  far  as  the  servants  were 
concerned ;  and  they  were  dismissed,  and  directed  to  send 
Mrs.  Rudd  to  the  parlor.  Upon  further  examination,  it  was 
ascertained  that  old  Nora  had  gone  at  a  very  early  hour  to 
the  stables  and  ordered  the  horse  and  vehicle.  She  was 
accustomed  to  drive  about  the  country.  Where  she  had 
gone  no  one  knew.  The  proceeding  was  not  an  uncommon 
one  for  her,  and  Weaver  was  dismissed  to  the  garden  until 
another  and  more  favorable  occasion. 


CHAPTER 

PEACEFULLY,  calmly,  glided  the  hours  at  "The  Glen." 
The  easy  and  graceful  hospitality  of  its  mistress  charmed  all, 
and  even  the  prejudiced  Englishman,  Sir  Francis  Cleveland, 
was  forced  to  admit  the  possibility  of  an  American  house 
being  properly  appointed  and  conducted.  Every  convenience 
to  which  he  had  been  accustomed  at  home  was  promptly 
furnished  to  him  by  the  servants  without  a  murmur,  and 
without  any  of  that  appearance  of  extraordinary  effort  which 
so  often  nullifies  a  favor.  The  domestics  understood  perfectly 
that  they  were  employed  to  make  existence  agreeable,  and 
that  no  failure  in  the  performance  of  their  duties  would  go 
unpunished,  and  no  unusual  effort  remain  unrewarded  by 
their  mistress.  She  exacted  the  utmost  deference  and  atten 
tion  from  them.  She  generously  compensated  labor  that 
encroached  upon  their  accustomed  leisure.  But  promptness 
and  cheerfulness,  respect  and  courtesy,  were  expected ;  and 
servants  devoid  of  these  qualities,  soon  found  the  front  door. 


STOEMCLIFF.  199 

Sickness  among  them  received  attention  and  sympathy  in  the 
person  of  their  mistress.  They  learned  to  respect  her,  and 
in  respect  germinates  the  pleasure  of  domestic  life.  This  per 
fect  household  arrangement  gratified  the  English  guests.  It 
was  unexpected  in  an  American  mansion.  Sir  Francis  Cleve 
land  was  reported  to  be  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  the  young 
widow.  Whatever  the  facts  in  the  case  might  be,  it  is  cer 
tain  no  action  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  confirmed  the  rumor.  She 
enjoyed  his  cultivated  society,  and  appreciated  his  learning 
and  accomplishments.  But  those  who  saw  them  often 
together  were  conscious  of  a  delicate  veil  of  reserve  inter 
posed  between  the  two  in  their  most  familiar  moments  of 
intercourse.  He  was  more  frequently  her  escort  in  the  daily 
rides  on  horseback  than  others.  But  at  "  The  Glen,"  in  the 
drawing-rooms,  or  in  the  gardens,  or  seated  before  the  piano, 
where  she  was  omnipotent  in  her  power  and  melody  of  voice, 
a  young  gentleman  of  the  neighborhood,  accomplished, 
wealthy,  and  twenty-five,  was  oftener  her  companion.  He 
rejoiced  ia  the  name  of  Charles  Delavau,  and  was  a  thorough 
gentleman,  with  a  fine  tenor  voice,  a  grey  eye,  brown  curling 
hair,  and  heavy  moustache.  He  was  a  gallant,  high-toned 
fellow,  and  a  universal  favorite  through  the  country.  He 
had  arrived  at  the  house  with  his  sister  Mary,  to  spend  seve 
ral  weeks,  at  the  invitation  of  Mrs.  Baltimore,  whose  father 
was  an  intimate  friend  of  the  elder  Delavan.  The  remaining 
guests  were  the  artist  Rogers,  who  had  planned  the  decora 
tions  of  "The  Glen,"  and  his  sister  Lucretia,  and  Mrs.  Balti 
more's  two  uncles,  Hugh  and  Reynolds  Winchester,  both 
under  thirty,  and  witty  and  brilliant  in  conversation.  The 
two  last  were  looking  for  wives,  and  wealth  was  an  indispen 
sable  requisite.  It  would  be  difficult  to  congregate  in  one 
private  residence  a  more  elegant  and  congenial  circle  of  friends. 
No  parties  or  balls  were  expected,  as  the  mistress  of  the 
property  was  in  mourning.  Nevertheless  they  were  never 
at  a  loss  for  amusement,  and  while  the  spirit  of  Terpsichore 
slumbered,  Cupid  held  court  in  the  ample  rooms  and  abun- 


200  STORMCLIFF. 

dant  alcoves,  or  sauntered  through  the  arbors  and  shady 
nooks  of  the  estate.  The  stables  were  supplied  with  a  superb 
collection  of  horses,  and  the  guests  rode  out,  when  they  were 
so  inclined,  in  pairs,  or  more  frequently  in  cavalcades,  em 
bracing  all  the  party,  and  destined  for  some  picnic  excursion 
or  romantic  road  leading  through  the  highlands.  Just  in  the 
rear  of  the  estate  flowed  a  stream  of  pure,  crystal  water, 
which,  a  mile  above,  effected  a  junction  with  the  brook  of 
"  The  Glen."  It  wandered  silently  under  rocky  banks,  or 
broke  in  ripples  where  its  pebbly  bed  was  shaded  by  the 
forest  shrubbery;  and  through  its  more  hidden  pools  and 
recesses  darted  speckled  trout.  Some  of  the  gentlemen 
wandered  in  warm  days  to  this  secluded  wood,  and  angled 
for  the  cautious  denizens  of  the  water.  It  was  a  dreamy, 
romantic  spot,  where  the  fancies  of  Nature's  poets  could  be 
read  with  renewed  interest,  and  the  whispering  trees  seemed 
to  chime  in  with  the  melody  of  the  rhythm.  There  were 
sequestered  nooks,  however,  at  a  shorter  distance.  The  pine- 
bordered  glen  afforded  opportunities  for  bowers,  where  the 
sun  never  penetrated,  and  where  the  rustic  seats  were  near 
enough  to  the  brook  for  their  occupants  to  catch  the  low, 
plashing  melody  of  the  water,  as  it  murmured  its  musical 
plaints  to  the  pines,  or  dropped  suddenly  into  a  fissure  of  its 
rocky  bed  with  a  hollow,  gurgling  monotone.  Curving 
paths  wandered  along  the  banks,  and  at  one  point  a  rustic 
bridge  of  unhewn  oaks  gave  access  to  the  south  side,  where 
the  hand  of  art  was  stayed  in  deference  to  the  wilder  charms 
of  Nature.  On  this  neglected  bank  the  rocks  were  lofty 
and  moss-covered,  forming  at  one  unexpected  turn  of  the 
wild  path  a  small  cavern,  where  two  persons  could  stand  with 
ease  and  slake  their  thirst  from  a  basin  hewn  in  the  rock  to 
catch  the  trickling  water  from  the  spring  concealed  in  the 
cliff  above.  An  antique  drinking-cup  of  iron,  brought  by  Mrs 
Baltimore  from  the  ruins  of  Pompeii,  stood  upon  this  basin 
and  bore  the  classical  inscription,  "  JExopto." 

The  apartment  in  the  mansion  most  frequented  by  the 


STOBMCLIFF.  201 

guests  during  the  sultry  days  of  summer  was  styled  "  The 
Saloon."  It  1) ad  been  constructed  in  the  new  building  or 
addition,  according  to  the  instructions  transmitted  to  Mrs. 
Rudd  from  Europe.  It  was  at  least  sixty  feet  in  length  and 
thirty  in  width.  The  ceiling  was  lofty,  and  the  floor  was 
composed  of  alternate  polished  slabs  of  blue  and  white  mar 
ble.  Directly  in  the  centre  of  this  spacious  hall  was  a  foun 
tain  of  snow-white  marble,  fashioned  in  the  shape  of  a  huge 
sea-shell,  around  whose  edge  clung  mermaids  bathing  their 
tresses  in  the  waters,  qr  flinging  jets  of  water  at  each  other 
from  their  palms,  in  streams  which  crossed  each  other  and 
then  fell  in  graceful  curves  to  the  shell  basin.  In  the  centre 
of  the  shell  stood  a  solitary  mermaid  erect,  with  her  finger 
pointing  upwards,  and  the  jet  of  water  from  it  rising  nearly 
to  the  ceiling  of  the  saloon,  and  then  falling  in  showers  of 
crystals  upon  her  shoulders.  This  queen  of  the  nautical  tribe 
appeared  to  receive  a  large  share  of  the  fluid  favors  directed 
by  her  attendants  at  each  other.  The  walls  of  the  apartment 
were  of  glistening  white,  relieved  at  intervals  by  fres 
coes  of  blue  lily-wreaths,  with  a  bluebird  for  a  centre.  The 
divans  scattered  through  this  cool  retreat  were  of  white 
marble,  delicately  carved  in  semblances  of  birds  and  flowers, 
and  their  tops  were  covered  by  long  cushions  of  blue  silk, 
of  the  same  shade  as  the  wreaths  of  lilies  on  the  walls.  The 
short  arm-cushions,  to  relieve  the  reclining  posture,  were  of 
the  same  silk,  elaborately  embroidered  in  white  silk  flowers 
and  fruits.  The  Gothic  windows  were  screened  by  Vene 
tian  blinds,  painted  a  light  cream  color,  and  somewhere 
hidden  behind  them  was  an  jEolian  harp,  ever  and  anon 
wailing  in  sweetness  at  the  whisper  of  the  freshening  breeze. 
A  few  lounging  chairs  of  bamboo  were"  scattered  through 
the  saloon.  The  ceiling  overhead  was  a  sky-blue,  with  silver 
stars.  The  apartment  was  designed  simply  for  a  place  of 
retreat  in  oppressively  hot  weather,  when  the  rich  warm 
colors  of  the  drawing-rooms,  and  the  circular  dining-room 
and  library,  were  repugnant  to  a  sense  of  cool  comfort.  The 

9* 


202  6TOKMCLIFF. 

summer  breezes  were  courted  in  constructing  it,  and  it  be 
came  a  favoraite  retreat  for  the  guests.  Near  the  divan,  at 
one  extremity  of  the  saloon,  stood  the  marble  statue  "  Mo 
desty,"  on  a  pedestal.  At  the  other  end,  and  near  a  divan, 
the  statue  "  Vigilance"  looked  from  a  pedestal  across  the 
room  at  the  bashful  maid  of 'marble,  as  if  intent  upon  aiding 
her  to  sustain  her  retiring  character.  The  marbles  had  at 
tracted  the  attention  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  in  Italy.  The  ar 
rangement  of  the  statues  was  the  idea  of  Old  Nora,  whose 
taste  was  confirmed  by  the  artist,  Rogers.  There  was  no 
door,  properly  speaking;  but  access  was  obtained  to  the 
saloon  from  the  hall  by  an  arch,  with  blue  silk  curtains 
and  tassels.  The  curtains,  at  the  apex  of  the  arch,  were  held 
in  the  beak  of  a  white  marble  dove,  the  emblem  of  peace 
and  repose.  The  plashing  of  the  fountain,  the  murmurs  of 
the  hidden  harp  of  the  winds,  and  the  coolness  of  the  place, 
made  it  a  favorite  resort  for  lovers.  Private  conversation 
might  easily  be  maintained  at  the  extremities  of  the  apart 
ment,  and  the  divans  protected  -by  "Vigilance"  and 
"  Modesty,"  were  frequently  tenanted  when  the  other  parts 
of  the  saloon  were  enlivened  by  the  jest  and  the  song. 

One  oppressively  hot  morning,  the  guests  and  their  hostess 
had  sought  refuge  in  the  saloon,  and  were  grouped  as  follows: 
Nicholas  Traver  was  seated  on  the  divan  by  the  statue  of 
"  Vigilance,"  conversing  in  a  low  earnest  tone  with  Miss 
Angier,  whose  eyes  were  cast  downwards  at  the  closed  book 
in  her  lap.  She  was  listening  attentively  to  his  musical, 
polished  utterances,  occasionally  interposing  a  brief  sentence, 
and  then  glancing  cautiously  around  the  room,  as  if  to  detect 
the  thoughts  of  the  other  loungers  upon  her  retired  tete-d,- 
tete.  Miss  Cleveland  occupied  the  seat  beside  the  statue  of 
"  Modesty,"  in  company  with  Hugh  Winchester,  whose  con 
versation  evidently  verged  upon  the  ridiculous,  as  her  merry 
peals  of  laughter  at  intervals  testified.  His  brother,  Rey 
nolds,  was  entertaining  the  artist's  sister  at  a  game  of  chess 
near  the  fountain.  Mary  Dclavan  was  sitting  for  her  por- 


STOKMCLIFF.  203 

trait  to  Rogers,  whose  narrative  of  adventure  was  calculated 
to  arouse  her  languid  blue  eyes  to  the  openness  and  brilliancy 
which  he  was  anxious  to  secure  for  the  eyes  on  his  canvas, 
and  which  rendered  her,  at  times  of  excitement  or  marked 
interest,  so  transcend ently  beautiful.  She  was  resting  her 
bare  arm  upon  a  small  table,  and  the  tip  of  a  dainty  foot  stole 
from  under  the  hem  of  her  white  muslin  dress.  Her  style 
was  languishing,  dreaming ;  a  blonde,  whose  complexion 
would  have  entitled  her  to  the  appellation  "  angelic,"  had 
not  her  figure  partaken  so  decidedly  of  the  fulness  of  Hebe. 
The  artist  interrupted  the  flow  of  his  own  narrative  at  length 
by  the  remark :  "  I  shall  insist  upon  your  wearing  another 
shade  of  dress  at  your  next  sitting.  I  find  my  eyes  dazzled 
by  painting  nothing  but  snow,  snow,  with  no  colors  to  re 
lieve  my  vision." 

A  smile  stole  languidly  to  the  features  of  the  fair  girl,  as 
she  evaded  the  compliment  by  the  quiet  remark  :  "  I  should 
think  snow  would  be  the  most  grateful  object  for  the  sense 
of  sight  such  weather  as  this  ;  but  be  kind  enough  to  go  on 
with  your  interesting  description.  It  will  be  time  enough  to 
don  my  velvet  when  you  have  finished  my  hair.  No  doubt 
the  weather  will  moderate  by  that  time.  But  I  trust  you 
will  never  complete  the  hair,  if  you  are  as  entertaining  every 
day  as  you  are  this.  Please  paint  on  for  ever,  for  I  am  living  in 
dreams  at  your  story ;  and  that  is  a  compliment,  coming  from 
me,  though  capable  of  another  construction." 

"  You  are  a  dream,  yourself,"  murmured  the  artist,  in  a 
tone  that  no  one  could  hear  but  his  companion.  A  slight 
blush  was  aroused  by  his  manner  as  he  looked  at  her  in  pro 
nouncing  these  words.  She  made  no  response.  A  change 
in  her  attitude  was  the  only  evidence  that  the  delicate  arrow 
of  Cupid  had  stirred  the  depths  of  her  languid  life.  While 
Rogers  transferred  Mary  Delavan's  face  to  his  canvas,  and 
probably  also  to  his  heart,  Mrs.  Baltimore  entertained  the 
two  gentlemen,  Sir  Francis  Cleveland  and  Charles  Delavan. 
The  two  last  were  seated  near  the  arch,  engrossed  by  the 


204  STOBMCLIFF. 

energy  and  vividness  with  which  she  portrayed  the  character 
of  modern  Italians,  and  vindicated  their  claims  to  self-govern 
ment,  independent  of  foreign  interference.  Her  eyes  blazed 
with  the  generous  emotions  aroused  by  her  subject.  The 
long,  dark  eyelashes  were  lifted  as  she  glanced  first  at  one 
and  then  at  the  other  of  her  auditors,  and  a  witchery  clung 
to  her  very  accent ;  and  the  powerful  imagery  she  employed, 
fascinated  by  its  novelty  and  appropriateness.  In  the  height 
of  her  argument  she  was  interrupted  by  the  appearance  of 
old  Nora  under  the  arch.  She  motioned  to  her  to  be  seated 
on  the  divan  beside  her,  and  then  went  on  with  her  discourse. 
Finally,  in  a  lull  of  the  conversation,  she  turned  to  Mrs.  Rudd, 
and  said :  "  Something  for  me,  is  it  ?" 

The  old  nurse  handed  a  book  to  her ;  Mrs.  Baltimore 
glanced  at  the  title,  and  said : 

"  A  new  novel !  That  will  be  a  delightful  sensation  during 
these  days  of  summer  imprisonment.  Where  did  you  find  it  ? 
and  who  is  the  author  ?  Why !  it  is  an  American  book. 
Now,  Sir  Francis,  I  trust  it  is  worthy  your  perusal.  I  shall 
satisfy  myself  on  that  point  first.  If  it  is  not  trash,  I  shall 
insist  upon  hearing  your  detailed  criticism  of  it."  She 
glanced  over  the  title-page,  and  then  said,  in  a  puzzled  tone, 
'  Oloffe,  the  Dreamer ;  by  Recluse.'  Who  is  Recluse  ?  I 
never  heard  that  nom  deplume  before?  Can  you  enlighten 
us,  Nora  ?" 

Mrs.  Rudd,  thus  appealed  to,  replied :  "  You  overwhelm 
me  with  questions,  but  I  will  endeavor  to  answer  in  the  order 
of  your  propounding.  I  purchased  the  book  in  town,  at  Hol- 
linbrook's.  There  is  a  great  demand  for  it,  the  bookseller 
informed  me.  I  first  learned  of  the  book  from  a  friend. 
While  I  was  looking  over  the  array  of  new  books,  several 
persons  came  in  and  asked  for  it.  The  author,  it  appears, 
prefers  to  veil  himself  in  obscurity  at  present.  The  name 
'  Recluse'  is  an  entirely  new  one.  An  impression  prevails, 
I  know  not  why,  that  the  author  is  an  inhabitant  of  this 
county.  Perhaps  the  accurate  description  of  scenery  about 


STOKMCLIFF.  205 

here  authorizes  that  supposition.  I  have  read  the  book,  and 
if  I  understand  your  sympathies  and  fancies  correctly,  you 
will  be  as  unwilling  to  lay  it  aside  as  I  was.  I  sat  up  neai'ly 
all  night  to  finish  it.  It  would  be  an  excellent  book  to  read 
aloud.  Perhaps  Sir  Francis  would  be  pleased  to  read  a  few 
chapters  for  the  company.  I  think  none  of  us  will  ever  for 
get  his  admirable  reading  of  Shakspeare  last  Monday." 

"  An  excellent  idea !"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Baltimore ;  "  add  the 
weight  of  your  vote,  Mr.  Delavan,  to  ours,  and  we  shall  surely 
be  gratified." 

"  No !  no !"  exclaimed  Sir  Francis,  "  you  all  deem  me  pre 
judiced  regarding  your  authors;  and  how  do  you  conceive, 
then,  that  I  should  exert  my  best  powers  to  render  this  mys 
terious  unknown  intelligible  to  you.  I  would  not  emphasize 
properly.  I  fear  I  would  not  suit  your  respective  tastes.  I 
would  suggest,  therefore,  Mrs.  Baltimore  as  the  reader. 
What  is  your  judgment,  Mr.  Delavan?" 

"  I  agree  with  you,  Sir  Francis,"  replied  the  gentleman 
addressed.  "I  should  enjoy  immensely  to  hear  you  again  in 
Shakspeare.  But  Mrs.  Baltimore  now — what  say  you, 
ladies,  gentlemen,  all? — shall  Mrs.  Baltimore  guide  us  through 
this  new  realm  of  fiction  ?  A  new  novel !  a  new  novel  1" 

All  the  guests,  save  only  the  two  who  were  seated  under 
the  statue  of  "Vigilance,"  came  forward  and  requested  the 
mistress  of  the  house  to  favor  them  with  her  reading.  The 
dilatory  two,  however,  united  their  voices  in  favor  of  her 
from  the  distance.  Thus  urgently  solicited,  she  opened  the 
book  and  read  aloud,  accompanied  by  the  musical  tinkling 
of  the  fountain : 

"  '  DEEAM8    OF   THE   PAST.' 

"  '  I  have  been  seated  here  so  long  gazing  into  the  limpid 
depths  of  this  miniature  lake,  dreaming,  dreaming,  that  I  can 
no  longer  discern  the  distinctions  of  fancy  and  reality.  Silent 
and  dream-bound,  nature  has  adopted  me.  The  timid  hare 


206  STORMCLIFF. 

has  learned  to  circle  round  me  in  his  careless  play,  nibbling 
the  grass  beside  the  lake.  The  golden-winged  butterfly  has 
made  his  capricious  visits  to  my  knee  and  hand.  A  graceful 
fawn  from  the  wild-wood  on  my  right  passed  me  with  his 
velvet  tread,  and  paused  upon  the  shore  to  wonder  at  his 
own  image  in  the  mirror  of  the  lake.  T  could  see  them  both, 
the  gazelle-eyed  watcher  and  his  likeness  in  the  water.  The 
trees  are  drooping  over  the  transparent  flood,  and  in  the 
depths  another  forest  gently  undulates,  or  silent  dreams. 
Sweet  mother  Nature,  thou  hast  adopted  me  into  thy  dream 
ing  family  and  pressed  me  softly  to  thy  tender  heart.  I 
have  been  alone,  and  thou  hast  taken  me ;  the  sceptre  of  thy 
silence  rules  my  material  shape,  and  my  spirit,  unfettered, 
fathoms  the  depths  of  the  lake,  and  wanders  through  its 
immaterial  forests.  No  dry  and  withered  branch  snaps 
startlingly  beneath  my  tread,  no  impeding  shrub  brushes  my 
side  ;  but  all  is  silent  dreaming  there.  Those  mirrored  trees 
will  sometimes  wave  and  bend,  but  no  whispering  sound 
greets  the  material  ear.  I  pass  in  silence  beneath  their  spirit 
arches,  and  forget  the  Present  and  the  Future.  The  Past 
lives,  the  Past  whispers  and  thrills ;  and  the  bell-notes  of 
memory  lead  me  on,  and  still  on.  I  have  traversed  the 
forest ;  its  shadows  are  past ;  the  blue  sky  of  my  childhood 
is  arching  my  life ;  dear  childhood,  dear  innocent  heaven  of 
mirth  !  The  burden  has  fallen,  the  anguish  is  past ;  ambition 
has  withered,  I'm  with  you  at  last.  From  the  green  slope 
of  the  mountain  the  old  school-bell  is  chiming,  and  the  fleet 
brook  is  hurrying  on  to  the  sea.  The  graves  have  all  van 
ished  ;  those  sad  mounds  have  gone ;  and  Willie  and  Charlie 
whistle  shrill  from  the  lawn — the  lawn  where  we  wrestled 
and  ran  the  wild  race.  It  was  only  fancy,  those  short  narrow 
mounds  enclosing  the  dead.  They  are  all  gone  now.  The 
smooth  grassy  meadow  is  unbroken  by  graves,  and  my  boy- 
dsh  friends  live  again.  The  school  is  over ;  and  Charlie,  with 
his  ruddy  face,  so  animated  under  the  torn  hat,  is  leading  us 
off  towards  the  chestnut  grove  on  the  side  of  the  mountain. 


STORMCLIFF.  207 

There  the  grey  squirrels  leap  from  branch  to  branch,  and  the 
ravine  is  so  shady  where  we  pause  and  drop  the  hook  and 
line  into  the  purling  water.  And  now  I  see  the  beautiful 
face  of  Harry  Winters,  with  his  blue  eyes  and  his  curling  hair. 
How  charmingly  he  extemporizes  fairy  tales,  and  gestures  to 
us  boys  gathered  around  him !  It  was  a  fable,  that  death 
seized  him,  and  gave  him  that  marble  whiteness  and  that 
stern,  rigid  look.  And  here  is  Belle  Somers,  the  little  fairy. 
Plow  earnestly  we  voted  that  she  should  be  "  Queen  of  the 
May,"  and  how  we  succeeded,  and  crowned  her  with  flowers. 
She  is  so  pretty  with  her  curls  of  gold,  and  her  snow-white 
neck  !  How  could  I  fancy  she  was  passed  away  to  Heaven  ? 
"No  I  no  !  They  all  live,  and  their  merry  laughter  echoes  on 
every  side.  Oh!  such  reckless  boys;  I  would  not,  "if"  I 
was  them,  venture  so  far  out  on  the  branch.  The  tree  is  very 
rotten,  aud  the  bird  is  not  so  red  as  the  one  that  builds  in  the 
willow  by  the  pond.  But  Willie,  he  is  not  afraid  of  anything. 
He  never  was.  I  knew  mother  would  come  out  if  she  heard 
how  high  Willie  had  climbed  in  that  tree.  How  earnest  her 
blue  eyes  are — how  anxious  she  looks  !  Willie  will  have  to 
come  down  without  the  nest,  that's  sure.  Mother  is  very 
timid  about  us  all  climbing.  She  wants  us  all  to  go  with  her 
to  select  a  bouquet  in  the  garden.  Alice  Pinkney  is  going  to 
be  married,  and  these  flowers  are  for  the  wedding  supper. 
Frank  Willis  says  it's  girl's  work,  and  he'd  rather  not  do  it 
He  wants  to  go  out  gunning  to-day.  Hark !  the  school-bell 
is  ringing — "  Who'll  be  there  first?"  The  music  of  the  old 
bell  is  dying  away.  Fainter  and  fainter  it  trembles  on  the 
air.  Now  the  strokes  of  the  bell  are  heard  no  longer.  Only 
the  air  trembles  after  the  last  stroke.  Fainter  and  fainter 
still  comes  the  vibration.  And  now  it  is  entirely  gone. 
Alas !  the  school-house,  and  the  maples,  and  the  boys  are  all 
gone,  and  I  am  a  man  struggling  and  alone  with  my  gasping 
heart,  that  craves  companionship  and  the  love  of  my  kind. 

"  '  See !  the  sunbeams  are  flooding  through  the  forest.  They 
tip  the  leaves  of  the  beeches  with  gold,  and  fall  through  the 


208  STOKMCLIFF. 

dense  foliage  of  the  pines  in  threads  of  light ;  and  now  they 
reach  my  forest  in  the  lake.  They  penetrate  its  shadowy 
arches,  and  quiver  along  its  dim  aisles.  Something  is  wav 
ing  to  me  far,  far  down  in  the  depths  of  the  lake.  Can  it  be 
a  hand?  Yes!  a  fair  beautiful  hand  gracefully  beckoning 
to  me.  And  now  she  raises  it  and  brushes  back  her  veil,  and 
reveals  those  eyes  which  have  ever  loved  and  trusted  me. 
The  same  old  look  of  confidence,  the  same  smile  she  wore 
on  her  engagement-day,  when  she  turned  to  her  betrothed, 
and  pointing  to  me,  said  :  "  I  love  him  almost  as  much  for  a 
friend  as  I  do  you  for  a  lover."  With  her  keen  bright  look 
she  summons  me  to  her  side,  to  whisper  some  of  her  sparkling 
un.  She  shall  sing  for  me  again  when  the  guests  are  all 
gone,  and  our  little  party  of  old  friends  are  left  to  ourselves. 
What  a  delusion  that  she  left  me  alone  to  die  when  cruel 
fate  smote  me  with  his  iron  hand,  and  the  bright  and  beauti 
ful  of  my  life  went  out  in  a  gasp  of  mortal  agony  !  What  a 
delusion,  that  she  passed  me  on  the  street  with  the  cold  look 
of  a  stranger — she  who  could  never  change !  How  blind, 
how  wilful  I  have  been  to  fancy  this,  when  there  she  stands 
— imperial  in  her  fun  and  wit — and  beckoning  so  familiarly 
to  me,  her  old  friend,  to  come  to  her !  Oh !  the  beautiful 
Past  is  the  Present  once  more,  and  constancy  reigns  on  the 
earth.  Draw  out  the  harp  from  its  curtained  retreat,  and 
sing  me  our  favorite  song.  I  revel  in  those  sounds  of 
melody ;  those  cadences  linger  when  you  are  away,  and  now 
I  am  happy  once  more.  How  strange  that  your  eyes  are 
growing  so  dim,  and  your  voice  is  fading  away  in  the  dis 
tance  !  Will  you  leave  me  abruptly  ?  Ah !  the  harp  is  wail 
ing  so  sadly  under  my  forest  trees  in  the  lake.  You  have 
left  me  alone  to  murmur  and  die.  I  could  have  died  for  your 
sake,  Mary,  my  friend  ;  and  you  wrong  the  impulses  of  jus 
tice,  when  you  forsake  me,  too.  Farewell !  alas,  farewell ! 
I  bless  you  as  you  flee,  hurried  off  by  the  world,  by  pride, 
from  one  who  trusted  your  sincerity  and  truth  as  he  trusted 
the  rising  of  the  sun  after  the  darkest  night.  Wail  on,  O 


STORMCLIFF.  209 

harp,  for  ever — though  your  notes  dim  my  eyes  with  tears, 
and  I  can  see  no  more  the  white  hand  waving  to  me  from 
my  forest  in  the  lake !  The  sweetest  dream  I  have  ever 
known — the  dream  of  a  woman's  friendship  and  trust — has 
vanished  like  the  morning  mist ;  and  I  sit  lonely  and  de 
serted  by  the  lake  where  the  song  of  friendship  was  once 
sung,  and  kindred  souls  communed  of  the  true  and  the  beau 
tiful  ! ' » 

The  reader  -was  interrupted  by  a  sob  near  her.  She 
glanced  up  from  her  book.  Mary  Delavan  had  buried  her 
face  in  her  handkerchief  and  was  weeping.  The  next  instant, 
as  if  ashamed  of  this  public  manifestation  of  feeling,  she 
arose  abruptly  and  left  the  room.  Mrs.  Rudd  followed  her. 
Good  taste  assumed  that  the  tears  arose  from  excess  of  sym 
pathy  at  the  reading.  If  not,  old  Nora  would  be  a  sufficient 
escort,  if  it  proved  to  be  illness.  Mrs.  Baltimore  went  on 
with  the  reading,  in  which  every  one  had  become  interested, 
save  the  two  who  were  too  remote  on  the  divan  by  the  statue 
of  "  Vigilance."  Nicholas  Traver  and  his  companion  were  too 
much  engrossed  in  each  other's  society  to  join  the  attentive 
and  silent  group  about  the  mistress  of  the  house.  They 
were  partially  hidden  from  the  rest  of  the  guests  by  the 
intervening  fountain.  But  Nora  had  them  in  full  view  from 
her  seat,  and  they  felt  relieved  when  she  followed  Mary  De 
lavan  out.  Miss  Angler's  color  was  evidently  heightened  by 
the  subject  of  conversation  ;  and  Nora,  who  saw  everything, 
had  not  failed  to  observe  it.  When  he  discovered  that  he 
was  no  longer  under  the  surveillance  of  those  piercing  eyes, 
the  father  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  renewed  the  conversation  with 
greater  earnestness,  and  gave  potency  to  his  remarks  by 
more  frequent  glances  into  his  companion's  face  of  his  irre 
sistible  eyes  of  blue.  .Gifted  with  the  insight  and  discretion 
of  an  angel,  was  the  woman  who  could  gaze  long  into  those 
eyes  and  remain  unmoved,  unfascinated.  Miss  Angier,  with 
all  her  sense,  was  evidently  not  proof  against  their  influence. 


210  STORMCLIFF. 

That  superb  elegant  talker  and  thinker,  bore  in  his  beautiful 
features  the  evidences — which  most  men  deem  satisfactory — 
of  an  earnest,  truthful  nature.  It  was  far  from  strange,  then, 
that  the  girl,  in  the  presence  of  the  mature  and  accomplished 
scholar,  the  brilliant  wit,  the  object  of  universal  admiration, 
should  open  the  secret  portals  of  her  heart's  treasures  at  the 
touch  of  his  wizard  hand.  The  narrative  of  his  lonely  history 
for  many  years  gradually  and  naturally  melted  away  into  a 
tale  of  love ;  and  while  the  reading  engrossed  the  attention  of 
the  guests,  and  the  vigilant  Nora  was  absent,  that  tale  was 
surely  and  fatally  threatening  the  brightness  and  purity  of  a 
star,  and  there  was  no  one  to  sound  for  the  poor  bewildered 
girl  a  note  of  alarm. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  emotion  of  Miss  Delavan,  which  had  occasioned  in 
some  minds  conjectures  regarding  the  possibility  of  the  un 
known  author  being  an  acquaintance  of  hers,  gave  increased 
zest  to  the  subsequent  pages  by  "  Recluse." 

Rogers,  who  had  been  so  abruptly  deprived  of  his  sitter, 
laid  aside  his  palette  and  brushes,  and  listened  attentively  to 

"'DREAMS  OF  THE  PRESENT.' 

" '  From  my  exalted  seat  on  this  spur  of  the  mountain,  my 
eye  ranges  over  a  wilderness  of  foliage  bisected  by  an  ancient 
blade  of  glistening  steel,  the  river.  This  trenchant  weapon 
in  the  grasp  of  Omnipotence,  has  cloven  the  rocks  and  the 
mountains,  and  enabled  civilization  to  glide  in  and  lay  its 
beneficent  hand  upon  the  solemn  and  gloomy  heart  of  the 
proud  recluse,  the  wilderness.  Like  every  conqueror,  the 
noble  river  has  its  satellites  of  rank  and  beauty.  The  stately 
mountains,  in  their  robes  of  emerald,  stand  sentinel  about  its 
path,  or  in  autumnal  days  of  solemn  state  don  scarlet  and 


STOEMCLHT.  211 

golden  mantles  to  honor  the  passing  monarch.  The  musi 
cians,  the  tributary  cascades,  in  snowy  garments  sing  to  their 
lord,  and  the  countless  orchestras  of  birds  warble  in  unison 
along  his  path.  The  Storm  King  sends  forth  his  heralds, 
the  echoes,  to  repeat  his  thunder-tones  of  praise,  and  the  sky 
marshals  her  maids  and  matrons  of  snowy  white,  and  purple 
and  gold,  to  look  upon  the  conqueror  as  he  passes  towards 
the  sea,  or  in  the  evening  spreads  above  him  her  canopy  of 
flaming  meteors  and  silver  stars.  Far  below  me,  on  the 
river  banks,  where  men  hurry  and  pant,  labor  and  die  for 
gold,  Oloffe  the  dreamer  is  a  stranger  and  an  exile  from 
human  sympathy.  The  pearls  of  his  heart  are  driven  from 
the  market-place,  the  tendrils  of  his  affections  are  refused  a 
climbing-place  upon  the  trellis  of  society,  and  then  he  scales 
the  dizzy  crag  to  pour  his  pearls  and  flowers  into  the  lap  of 
Nature,  that  she  may  blend  them  with  the  wreaths  she  daily 
flings  in  tribute  to  the  glory  of  the  Hudson,  the  river  of  his 
young  dreams  and  his  mature  love.  Through  its  entire 
length,  the  noble  stream  is  the  recipient  of  homage.  The 
monarchs  of  the  forest  bend  reverently  towards  it ;  flowers 
droop  to  its  flow ;  and  even  the  adamantine  rocks,  cleft  asun 
der  in  its  march,  are  known  to  incline  in  grim  reverence  to 
wards  their  master.  The  noiseless  mist,  the  spirit-daughter 
of  the  river,  rises  from  its  bosom,  glides  with  fairy  tread  up 
an.d  around  the  summits  of  the  highlands,  and  then  floats 
upwards,  amorously,  to  a  marriage  with  the  Sun,  the  god  of 
day.  Glorious  old  monarch !  in  my  loneliness  and  my  de 
spair  I  turn  to  thee  !  I  am  one  of  thy  children.  My  first 
breath  was  drawn  upon  thy  banks ;  the  first  notes  of  music 
that  sweetly  startled  my  young  soul,  came  stealing  to  me  over 
thy  waters,  and  the  first  moon  that  cast  its  silver  arrows  at  the 
target  of  my  heart,  lovingly  placed  its  miniature  in  thy 
bosom.  Trample  upon  me,  O  world  !  — crush  to  the  darkness 
of  oblivion  the  sympathies,  the  aspirations,  the  yearnings  of 
my  nature  ;  and  I  will  only  shake  off  the  fetters  of  race,  and 
go  forth  to  communion  with  the  grand  and  the  beautiful. 


212  STORMCLIFF. 

The  river  calls  to  me  by  its  resistless,  its  onward  motion, 
"  Press  bravely  on  to  the  Eternal  Sea."  In  the  serene  blue 
eye  of  heaven  above  me  only  love  and  pity  beam.  I  dream, 
gazing  long  upon  my  companion,  the  river,  and  in  its  mirror 
discerning  mountain  peaks  inverted,  and  sailing  vessels  keel 
to  keel.  I  dream,  gazing  upwards  to  that  eye  of  blue,  or  trace 
above  the  line  of  emerald  tree-tops  the  snowy  peaks,  castles, 
and  minarets,  which  ever  change  their  shapes  upon  the  bor 
der  line  of  cloud-land.  It  is  my  realm,  and  in  the  conscious 
pride  of  undisputed  empire  I  dream  on.  But  see  !  the  in 
truder  comes.  A  pure  white  carrier-dove  hovers  between  me 
and  the  sky,  a  fitting  messenger  of  love  from  my  snowy  cas 
tles  in  the  clouds — a  peaceful  invader  to  whom  my  heart  offers 
welcome,  and  then  dreams  on.  Did  ever  perfect  silence  reign 
upon  the  throne  of  the  human  heart  ?  Did  ever  lovely  dreams 
have  full  fruition  ?  Lo  !  upon  my  dream  a  wild  hawk  of  the 
mountain  glens  arose.  Spreading  his  war-wings  for  destruc 
tion,  he  swept  darkly  between  me  and  the  sun.  Cloud-land 
and  dream-land  were  indeed  invaded,  and  the  hush  of  peace 
was  gone.  Surely,  fatally,  he  swept  in  huge  circles  above 
his  prey ;  and  when  at  last  he  fell  like  the  lightning  upon  the 
white  messenger  sent  to  my  dreaming  realm  from  the  clouds, 
I  closed  my  eyes  in  pain,  and  my  dream  vanished.  I  looked 
again  !  The  war-bird  was  flying  off  with  the  murdered  dove, 
and  drops  of  blood  were  falling  to  the  serene  bosom  of  the 
river.  And  is  this  thy  lesson,  O  Nature  ?  The  powerful 
and  the  evil  alone  must  conquer.  The  innocent  and  the  true 
must  go  under.  The  strong  must  fall  upon  the  \\  eak,  and 
fidelity  and  constancy  shall  be  no  shield  from  destruction. 
While  yet  the  sneer  lingered  upon  my  face,  the  silence  of  the 
day  was  startled.  The  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  rang  from  the 
mountain  side,  and  the  triumphant  hawk  fell  dead  into  the 
thicket.  The  scene  brightened.  Retribution  will  come  to 
the  lawless,  the  useless,  the  scourges  of  the  earth.  Take 
heart  then.  Man  was  created  to  guard  and  protect  the  in 
nocent,  and  avenge  their  fall.  If  true  to  his  noble  mission, 


STORMCLIFF.  213 

he  may  win  a  crown  of  honor  on  the  earth,  and  secure  the 
approbation  of  heaven.  The  beautiful,  the  pure,  the  innocent, 
the  noble,  will  crowd  to  his  feet  to  do  him  reverence.  Tears 
of  gratitude  shall  glisten  about  him;  kind  hands  grasp  him 
loving  smiles  greet  him,  angels  guard  him.  Arise !  Oloffe, 
the  dreamer.  Thy  visions  of  the  Present  are  futile.  Fate, 
cruel  fate,  walls  up  thy  soul  from  the  fruition  and  the  charms 
of  the  Present.  Wrap  the  mantle  of  integrity  about  thine 
unknown  form,  and  walk  fearlessly  out  to 

"  '  DEEAMS    OF   THE   FUTURE.' 

"  '  In  the  coming  time,  brave  hearts  and  iron  wills  shall  be 
the  citadels  around  which  the  angels  of  God  shall  gather 
for  battle.  To  defend  these  fortresses,  the  word  of  the  King 
of  kings  is  pledged.  Be  thou  one — the  foremost — the  cita 
del  from  which  the  Christian  banner  of  Truth  waves  proudly. 
Hurl  back  the  hosts  of  Evil,  of  Error,  of  Self.  Corruption 
advances  with  rapid  stride.  Guard  the  citadel ;  sally  forth  ; 
strike  it  before  its  shadowy  followers  have  formed  the  impene 
trable  phalanx.  Strike  it  in  the  court-room,  though  the 
bench  of  judges  tremble.  Wrestle  with  it  on  the  rostrum. 
Fling  off  its  mantle,  and  expose  its  hideous  features  to  the 
people.  Among  the  plain,  the  simple,  the  unostentatious, 
integrity  dwells  in  covert — mines  of  gold  and  precious  pearls. 
Be  thou  the  wizard-hand  to  develop  it,  fashion  it,  give  it  im 
petus,  and  hurl  it  against  the  foe.  All  men  are  not  corrupt. 
No  !  no !  That  is  only  the  whisper  of  the  fiend  of  the  hour 
to  discourage  the  champions  of  Right.  Delve  deep  among 
the  masses  for  integrity.  The  diamond  will  come  to  thy 
hand ;  its  companions,  small  and  great,  will  appear.  The 
cluster  will  increase  upon  thy  labors  and  thy  manly  strug 
gles.  It  will  expand  into  a  wreath,  glistening  and  beautiful. 
Wipe  off  every  stain,  and  bind  it  upon  thy  temples,  and  its 
brilliancy  shall  win  the  souls  of  the  timid,  and  dazzle  to 
blindness  the  evil  who  reign.  Grapple  with  Luxury,  grap- 


214  STORMCLIFP. 

pie  with  Power.  Fight  for  the  poor,  the  friendless,  the 
oppressed.  Deem  not,  because  the  intellectual  and  beautiful 
are  ranged  under  the  banner  of  corruption,  that  their  hearts 
are  not  assailable.  In  many  a  soul,  hidden  under  the  influence 
of  pomp  and  power,  a  memory  lingers.  There  was  a  time 
when  that  memory  was  fresh  and  beautiful.  It  was  the 
memory  of  a  child.  It  recalled  a  day  of  anguish,  when  the 
eyes  of  a  precious  mother  closed  in  death.  The  wandering 
little  feet  of  the  child  went  up  and  down — lost,  lost.  The 
star  of  love  which  had  lighted  every  evening,  was  gone  out. 
Instinctively,  or  from  teaching,  the  child  sought  for  it  among 
the  stars  of  heaven.  It  was  a  strange  transition,  that  long 
gaze  at  the  distant  stars,  when  the  child  had  only  looked 
before  as  high  as  a  mother's  beaming  eyes  of  love.  The 
innocent  heart  was  seeking  for  the  purity  and  love  which  had 
gladdened  its  little  life,  and  which  was  lost.  And  lo !  the 
anxious  gaze  was  turned  at  last  to  the  home,  the  source  of 
all  purity  and  love.  Speak  to  -that  memory  of  that  youthful 
time.  Speak  to  that  purity  and  innocence  of  thought  and 
purpose,  when  the  bare  suggestion  of  evil  was  as  awful  as  the 
gathering  thunder-clouds,  and  you  shall  see  the  strong  man 
melt  in  tears,  and  the  woman's  lip  tremble  in  agony.  Arise, 
Olofie  !  girt  with  the  freshness  and  the  power  of  the  morn 
ing,  and  walk  forth  side  by  side  with  the  sun,  to  cheer,  and 
invigorate,  and  bless  !  The  mission  of  the  intellect  is  to  win 
power — power  to  sustain  the  weak  and  stimulate  the  strong, 
to  wipe  away  the  tears  of  life,  and  cause  a  lull  in  the  storm 
of  passions,  that  men  may  hear  the  music  of  heaven.  See 
yon  eagle  perched  upon  the  topmost  fringe  of  the  dark  pine, 
surveying  his  empire,  the  river-valley,  and  the  sea  of  foliage. 
He  is  not  satisfied  to  share  the  kingdom  with  the  grovelling 
sons  of  men.  With  a  scream  of  exultation,  he  launches  forth 
upon  the  blue  ether,  and  mounts  upwards  towards  the  sun. 
Follow  his  flight  till  the  eye  is  dazzled,  and  his  career  is 
lost.  That  eagle  daring,  and  that  upward  flight,  is  the  symbol 
of  the  soul.  To  that  unexplored  realm,  each  angel,  poised 


STORMCLIFF.  215 

upon  the  pinnacles  of  human  pride  and  human  ambition,  points 
and  whispers  :  "  Rise  to  the  higher  destiny  of  man."  The  foot- 
stand  of  these  angels  satisfies  the  most  of  men  ;  but  in  the 
unfathomed  purposes  of  God,  a  soul  will  sometimes  spurn  the 
pinnacles  of  earth,  and  follow  the  eagle  into  the  sun.  Arise  ! 
Oloffe!  The  benefactor  and  the  protector  of  those  for 
whom  Christ  died ;  who,  in  the  name  of  humanity,  is  will 
ing  to  bear  and  suffer  all — is  the  eagle  aiming  his  flight 
towards  heaven.  Arise !  Shake  off  the  dreams  of  the  Past 
and  the  Present,  and  in  the  dreams  of  the  Future  envelop 
thyself,  secure  of  power  and  homage,  and  Heaven,  if  only 
thou  recognise  the  sovereignty  of  Right  and  Humanity  in 
the  battles  of  Time.'" 

The  reader  paused  and  looked  up  from  the  book.  "  How 
do  you  all  like  it  ?  Shall  I  go  on ;  or  are  you  tired  ?" 

The  auditors  expressed  themselves  in  favor  of  further 
examination  of  the  author's  opening  pages.  Even  Sir  Fran 
cis  Cleveland  indicated  his  curiosity  to  ascertain  what  kind 
of  a  plot  wa's  to  be  founded  upon  the  reveries  of  Oloffe. 
Upon  his  remarks  arose  a  controversy  as  to  the  proper 
method  of  introducing  characters  into  a  novel,  and  the  sub 
sequent  development  of  the  plot.  In  the  midst  of  the  dis 
cussion  old  Nora  entered  the  saloon,  and  after  announcing 
that  the  sister  of  Mr.  Delavan  was  not  ill,  and  had,  upon 
retiring  to  her  room,  requested  to  be  left  entirely  alone,  she 
produced  a  note  addressed  to  the  mistress  of  "  The  Glen," 
and  stated  that  the  bearer  was  awaiting  an  answer  outside. 
Mrs.  Baltimore  broke  the  seal  and  glanced  over  the  contents.  It 
was  a  puzzling  missive,  and  after  a  minute's  reflection  she  said : 

"  Here  is  something  you  all  must  hear.  It  is  mysterious, 
and  therefore  I  claim  the  assistance  of  every  one  who  is  good 
at  making  correct  surmises.  See  what  mystification  such  an 
excellent  gentleman  as  the  Reverend  Charles  Heron  can  be 
guilty  of." 

The  note  read  as  follows : 


216  6TORMCLIFF. 

"Mr  DEAR  MRS.  BALTIMORE: — A  surprise  awaits  you,  and 
the  duty  of  giving  you  notification  has  devolved  upon  me. 
I  trust  my  acquaintance  with  your  family  for  many  years 
will  be  a  sufficient  guarantee  that  no  breach  of  refinement 
or  good  taste  will  be  effected  in  regard  to  any  surprise  to 
which  I  may  direct  your  notice.  At  a  point  on  the  highway, 
just  half  the  distance  from  your  estate  to  the  town,  you  will 
recollect  there  is  a  maple  grove  covering  the  rising  ground, 
which  has  for  many  years  been  familiarly  known  as  '  Wizard's 
Hill.'  At  that  point  I  earnestly  desire  to  meet  you  at  four 
o'clock  this  evening.  The  desired  interview  will  not  detain 
you  beyond  a  half-hour.  I  am  aware  of  the  fact  that  you 
often  ride  in  the  evening  in  that  neighborhood,  hence  I  sug 
gest  it  as  a  convenient  place  to  meet  you.  Will  you  honor 
me  by  your  presence  (attended  or  alone,  as  you  may  deem 
advisable)  at  that  hour  ? 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"CHARLES  HERON." 

The  reading  of  this  amazing  proposition  was  followed  by 
a  storm  of  comments  and  jests  from  the  assembled  guests. 

"  Meet  him  1"  exclaimed  Sir  Francis.  "  By  the  virtue  of  my 
knighthood,  I  demand  of  you,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  to  entrust  the 
delivery  of  your  answer  to  him  to  me.  What  can  the  man 
be  dreaming  of  ?  The  proper  place  to  approach  a  lady  is  at 
her  own  door." 

"  He  is  a  clergyman,  Sir  Francis,"  was  the  quiet  reply ; 
"  and  a  gentleman  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  What  do 
you  think  of  this,  father  ?"  she  added,  extending  the  note  to 
Nicholas  Traver,  who  had  come  forward  with  his  companion 
to  discover  the  cause  of  the  general  excitement.  He  glanced 
over  the  note,  and  then  folded  it  carefully,  and  placing  it  in 
his  daughter's  hand,  said  : 

"  Meet  him  by  all  means,  if  you  are  able  to  do  so.  He  is 
too  considerate  and  kind  a  man  to  make  unreasonable 
requests.  No  doubt  the  occasion  is  extraordinary,  and 


STORMCLIFF.  217 

demands  an  extraordinary  manner  of  approaching  you.  If 
you  are  indisposed,  for  any  good  reason,  I  will  ride  out  to 
meet  him  myself.  If  the  matter  is  susceptible  of  being  con 
ducted  through  an  agency,  I  will  be  happy  to  be  the  agent. 
Provided  you  cannot  go,  I  or  any  of  your  friends  will  meet 
him." 

There  was  a  quiet  dignity  of  tone  in  this  reply  which 
appeared  reasonable  enough,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  annoy  the 
Englishman.  Conciliation  was  rarely  consonant  with  his 
impetuous  method  of  acting  and  forming  conclusions.  He 
bluntly  expressed  himself  opposed  to  the  propriety  of  any 
lady  leaving  her  own  home  to  meet  a  gentleman  on  the 
highway  when  he  could  come  to  her  house  so  readily. 

"  But,"  replied  Mr.  Traver,  with  the  same  gentle  courtesy 
of  manner,  "  the  reverend  gentleman  states  that  a  surprise 
is  intended.  No  doubt  it  is  a  pleasurable  surprise.  He 
scarcely  could  request  a  meeting  at  such  a  place  for  a  mero 
matter  of  business;  and  my  judgment  is,  that  if  any  disa 
greeable  communication  is  intended,  he  would  have  expressed 
himself  more  clearly." 

"  That  is  my  opinion,  too,"  said  Hugh  Winchester.  "  If 
I  were  in  your  place,  Grace,  I  would  go.  The  Church  is  seek 
ing  for  grace.  Pray  don't  let  it  remain  longer  without  it." 

"  Hush !  irreverence  !"  replied  his  niece,  placing  her  hand 
kindly  on  his  arm.  He  was  her  favorite  kinsman.  "  If  you 
will  behave  yourself,  uncle  Hugh,  you  may  be  my  escort.  I 
think  I  will  go.  Why  will  not  all  of  you  ride  out  this  even 
ing?  There  appears  to  be  no  limit  in  the  invitation  extend 
ed  to  me.  I  must  confess  to  the  weakness  of  curiosity  in 
regard  to  this  matter.  I  will  invite  all  of  you  to  follow  us. 
Uncle  Hugh  rides  with  me  in  the  phaeton.  He  shall  drive 
the  fast  bays  to-day.  Whoever  has  curiosity  to  follow  us  in 
this  mysterious  expedition,  let  him  speak,  or  remain  for  ever 
silent.  Who  rides  to  Wizard's  Hill  this  evening  with  us  ? 
Uncle  Hugh  and  I  drive  ahead  to  the  hill.  If  there  is  no 
objection  to  the  whole  party  coming  up,  I  will  wave  my 

10 


218  STORHCLIFF. 

handkerchief  over  the  back  of  the  carriage  to  you.     Who'll 
go?" 

The  guests  all  expressed  themselves  favorable  to  her  pro 
position.  Mystery  sweeps  along  in  her  train  ah1  ages  and 
sexes.  What  could  the  clergyman's  note  mean  ?  Was  it  a 
picnic  surprise  ? 

"  I  wish  Mr.  Heron  would  bring  his  daughter  with  him," 
said  Reynolds  Winchester  to  the  artist's  sister,  with  a  mark 
ed  tone  of  interest,  which  he  knew  would  provoke  inquiry 
among  the  female  auditors. 

"  Why  ?"  asked  his  niece,  turning  her  large,  brilliant  eyes 
upon  him.  , 

"  She  is  the  beauty  of  the  county,"  was  the  response. 

"Ah!  I  remember  her,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore.  "She  was 
not  beautiful  at  the  age  of  eleven  or  twelve.  But  she  wrote 
poetiy  which  attracted  attention.  She  was  a  blonde." 

"  She  is  beautiful  now,  however,"  replied  her  uncle.  "You 
will  all  acknowledge  it  when  you  see  her — an  exquisite  crea 
ture — lovely  in  every  way.  If  all  the  divine  sex  were  as 
devoid  of  art  and  selfishness  as  Marie  Heron,  there  would  be 
no  need  of  a  hereafter;  the  world  would  be  a  heaven." 
.  "  Now,  I  know  you  are  at  mischief,"  said  his  niece,  with  a 
emile.  "  Had  your  language  been  more  moderate,  we  should, 
have  been  deceived.  But  now  you  are  foiled.  We  are  not 
even  curious;  we  are  all  jealousy-proof!" 

"  Wait  and  see,"  was  the  confident  response. 

"  That  answer  of  yours  postpones  a  decision  to  some  very 
indefinite  period,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore. 

"  Then,  I  dare  you  to  invite  Marie  Heron  here.  Ask  her 
to  join  our  circle  for  a  week  or  two.  I  will  introduce  her 
to  you  any  day.  If  she  doesn't  create  a  hubbub  in  this  house, 
then  execute  me  as  a  false  prophet !" 

Mrs.  Baltimore  turned  laughingly  to  her  father. 

"  Shall  I  invite  Miss  Heron  here  to  dazzle  Uncle  Reynolds 
into  silence  and  good  behavior?  He  does  nothing  but  try  to 
make  game  of  us  ladies  the  whole  day  long." 


STORMCLIFF.  219 

"  By  all  means  invite  her,  Grace.  We  are  indebted  to  her 
for  kindness  to  our  dead.  I  told  you  all  about  that.  She  is 
very  lovely  in  person  and  mind.  There  is  a  very  favorable 
opportunity  at  this  present  time.  Since  the  destruction  of 
the  Rector's  house  by  the  fire,  they  are  boarding  until  their 
new  house  is  built.  Their  locality  now  is  unpleasant  for 
warm  weather.  Mr.  Heron  will  probably  not  object  to  his 
daughter  being  pleasantly  domiciled  while  he  is  in  town 
superintending  the  construction  of  his  new  house." 

Why  did  she  remain  silent  as  the  smile  slowly  vanished 
from  her  face,  and  seriousness  reassumed  his  sceptre  ?  Is 
it  mere  chance  that  we  are  sometimes  impressed  with  the 
conviction  that  persons  who  are  to  meet  us  in  the  garb  of 
strangers  are  destined  to  be  mingled  in  our  unpleasant  ex 
periences,  and  to  stand  in  antagonism  to  our  current  of  joy  ? 
Is  it  chance  that  a  voice  whispers  suddenly,  "  Your  coming 
acquaintance  will  not  add  to  your  cup  of  earthly  bliss,  but 
will  inadvertently  upset  the  chalice,  and  spill  some  of  the 
ruby  drops  ?"  Hushed  were  the  lips  of  the  heiress  of  millions, 
and  attentive  her  heart,  as  the  muffled  bell  of  apprehension 
boomed  sullenly  off  in  the  future.  Why  should  she  fear? 
The  emblems  of  power  were  gathered  in  her  hands ;  such 
emblems  as  men  toil  and  struggle  long  lives  for,  and  seldom, 
attain  ?  Society,  wealth,  and  the  attractions  of  great  beauty 
were  subservient  to  her  uses,  her  ambition,  her  hopes.  Her 
intellect  glistened  with  acquirements,  and,  in  the  respect  of 
cultivated  men  and  women,  she  stood  high.  She  was  young, 
and  beautiful,  and  true.  Any  one  could  love  her.  As  she 
stood  there,  peerless  among  the  beautiful  and  the  refined, 
there  was  not  one  guest  of  her  house  whose  heart  did  not 
feel  kindly,  warmly  towards  her.  Why,  then,  the  whisper 
of  apprehension  ?  She  did  not  know  ;  and,  like  a  woman  of 
sense,  she  shook  off  the  passing  spell,  and  answered  cheer 
fully  and  gaily,  in  the  manner  of  her  own  generous  heart : 

"  Well,  then,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  shall  put  it  to  vote. 
Whoever  favors  the  introduction  into  our  circle  of  a  new 


220  STOKMCLIFF. 

beauty,  a  great  beauty,  and  a  beauty  who  can  'make  earth  a 
heaven  for  Uncle  Reynlds,  will  please  hold  up  his  right  hand. 
One  dissenting  vote  shall  exclude  his  divinity." 

The  pride  of  every  woman  present  had  been  appealed  to 
by  Mr.  Winchester's  suggestions  of  jealousy.  The  thing  was 
impossible,  absurd,  and  could  have  its  origin  only  in  a  man's 
low  standard  of  womanhood.  Of  course  every  lady  raised 
her  right  hand,  and  every  gentleman  followed  the  example. 
That  matter  was  decided ;  and  Mrs.  Baltimore  sent  word  to 
the  Rev.  Charles  Heron's  messenger  that  the  proposed  inter 
view  would  be  accepted  at  the  appointed  hour.  Lunch  was 
soon  after  announced,  and  its  discussion  superseded  every 
other. 

The  servants  appeared  with  a  number  of  small  tables,  the 
legs  of  which  were  formed  of  white  coral  branches  and  the 
tops  of  white  marble.  Placing  one  of  these  delicate  tables 
beside  each  guest,  they  retired  for  the  lunch.  In  a  few 
minutes  they  reappeared  with  the  ancient  solid  silver  salvers 
of  the  Baltimore  family,  laden  with  ices  of  every  form  and 
color ;  delicate  breads ;  meats,  tempting  by  their  thinness, 
and  the  coolness  of  the  crystal  plates  upon  which  they  were 
arranged;  cakes,  delicate  and  puffy;  preserves,  glistening 
through  their  glass  receptacles,  like  rubies  and  garnets; 
silver-frosted  crystal  pitchers  of  tiny  size,  full  of  rich  cream ; 
silver  baskets  of  grapes  gathered  in  every  clime,  and  fruits 
from  the  tropics  and  the  cooler  latitudes  clustered  in  de 
fiance  of  the  laws  of  climate; — decanters  of  wines,  and  glasses 
of  delicate  colors  and  patterns,  fashioned  in  semblances  of 
lilies  and  shells,  stood  near  the  fountains  ready  in  coolers. 
Everything  that  could  tempt  the  palate  in  the  sultry  days 
of  summer  was  provided  with  lavish  expenditure;  and  the 
guests  idled  away,  in  luxury  and  mirth,  the  hours  which 
intervened  before  the  expected  ride  to  Wizard's  Hill. 


STOKMCLIFF.  221 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE  spirited  bays  ceased  their  rapid  pace  at  the  foot  of 
Wizard's  Hill  and  commenced  to  walk  slowly  up.  Tho 
grateful  shade  of  the  maple-trees  was  already  flung  across 
their  glistening  coats,  and  they  were  allowed  to  choose  their 
own  pace  in  the  ascent.  The  hill  was  destitute  of  under 
growth,  and  the  eye  could  range  for  a  great  distance  over 
the  grass  which  carpeted  the  place.  The  road  was  straight 
before  the  horses'  heads,  leading  with  an  easy  ascent  to  the 
apex  of  the  hill,  where  it  appeared  to  launch  forth  into  the 
blue  sky.  At  the  summit,  however,  the  road  in  fact  fell 
suddenly  the  other  way  to  the  plain.  Hugh  Winchester 
examined  his  watch,  and  then  turning  to  the  lady  who  occu 
pied  the  phaeton  with  him,  said  : 

"  We  are  punctual,  almost  to  the  minute.  It  is  only  three 
minutes  to  four  o'clock.  Now  let's  see  what  is  to  be  the 
upshot  of  this  strange  affair.  Do  you  see  anything  in  the 
shape  of  humanity  on  this  hill  ?  It's  a  lovely  natural  grove, 
but  it  looks  deserted.  Ah!  do  you  see  that?  just  at  the 
summit,  where  the  road  seems  to  meet  the  sky,  that's  a  man, 
sure,  and  something  in  his  hand  glistens  in  the  sunlight, 
Hark !  " 

The  clear  silvery  notes  of  a  bugle  burst  upon  the  silence 
of  the  place.  The  startling  call  waxed  louder  and  louder, 
ringing  away  over  the  tree-tops,  and  the  echoes  from  the 
cliffs  of  the  river  came  back  in  wonderful  distinctness.  The 
music  ceased,  and  the  man  disappeared  from  the  i%oad  at  the 
summit.  Silence  reigned  once  more.  The  occupants  of  .the 
phaeton  looked  at  each  other  in  astonishment.  The  sunlight 
blended  with  the  shadows  of  the  maples  on  the  road  before 
them.  The  horses  toiled  slowly  up  the  ascent,  but  no  other 
sound  broke  the  stillness.  The  sole  evidence  of  human  life 
in  their  way  had  vanished. 

Mrs.  Baltimore,  rising  from  her  seat,  looked  back  over 


222  STORMCLIFF. 

the  way  they  had  come.  No  glimpse  of  her  followers 
rewarded  .her  gaze.  Her  fast  bays  had  outstripped  her 
friends.  She  resumed  her  seat,  saying : 

"  Mystery  of  mysteries.  Invited  to  meet  a  clergyman,  and 
finding  only  a  signal  of  war.  Uncle  Hugh,  where  are  your 
wits  ?  you  look  as  if  the  old  wizard  of  the  place  had  you 
spell-bound." 

"  By  Jove !  "  exclaimed  her  companion,  "  there  is  some 
thing  queer  about  all  this  ;  it  sounds  like  a  robber  chief's  sig. 
nal  to  make  ready  for  us.  Suppose  Mr.  Heron  didn't  write  the 
note,  and  it's  all  a  plan  to  inveigle  us  here  and  rob  us  ?" 

"  Would  you  show  fight,  Uncle  Hugh  ?"  she  asked,  glanc' 
ing  at  him,  as  if  the  idea  of  a  rencounter  was  the  acme  of 
delight. 

"  See  here,  my  sweet  niece ;  I  suggested  that  idea  to  alarm 
you — not  to  gratify  you ;  your  eyes  look  perfectly  compla 
cent,  just  as  if  you  relished  the  idea  of  meeting  some  villa- 
nous  scamps  in  this  lonely  place.  You  have  forgotten  that  a 
man  was  recently  murdered  not  far  from  this  hill. " 

"Nonsense,  Uncle  Hugh." 

"  I'm  in  earnest,  Grace." 

"You  are?  Well,  you  just  jump  out  and  run  back  and 
tell  the  rest  of  the  party.  As  for  myself,  I  intend  to  fulfil 
the  engagement  I  started  out  for.  Give  me  the  reins.  By 
the  way,  when  you  meet  Sir  Francis  Cleveland,  tell  him  to 
hurry  up.  He  has  been  giving  me  glorious  descriptions  of 
an  affair  he  had  with  brigands  in  Spain.  I  know  he  will 
relish  this,  particularly  when  you  tell  him  there  is  a  lady  in 
the  case.  Hurry,  now,  for  I  shall  probably  have  all  the 
romance  to  myself. " 

She  tried  to  take  the  reins  from  him.  He  colored  up  to 
think  she  should  make  such  a  proposition.  The  truth  wns, 
he  had  really  known  of  a  serious  robbery  in  the  neighbor 
hood.  During  the  whole  time  of  the  ride  he  had  been  cogi 
tating  the  mattei',  and  an  apprehension  of  evil  could  not  be 
shaken  off.  The  mystery  of  the  bugle-call  made  matters 


STOEMCLIFF.  223 

worse.  It  would  be  far  from  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
his  niece's  well  known  wealth  was  a  tempting  inducement 
for  lawless  men  to  seek  to  obtain  possession  of  her  person 
But  when  his  apprehensions  had  taken  the  form  of  words,  he 
was  amazed  to  discover  how  quickly  her  innate  fire  flashed 
out  to  her  usually  serene  exterior.  He  had  heard  of  her  effi 
ciency  on  board  the  sinking  vessel,  but  had  always  regarded 
it  as  exaggerated.  Something  in  her  eye  and  tone  now 
informed  him  that  it  must  have  been  literally  true. 

"  Come,  Uncle  Hugh,  don't  stop  to  consider.  Fight  now, 
or  go  back  for  reinforcements  while  I  drive  on.  Trust  me 
with  thieves — my  darling  bays  will  break  through  every 
thing.  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  What  are  you  sitting  there 
for,  holding  private  council  of  war  while  our  foes  are  com 
bining  against  us  ?" 

"Because  you  are  so  foolhardy.  You  know  that  I  will 
fight  where  there's  any  sense  in  it.  But  I  have  no  weapons. 
And  that  isn't  the  whole  matter,  either.  I'm  concerned 
about  you.  I  came  here  to  escort  you,  and  take  care  of  you, 
and  I'm  going  to  do  it.  The  idea  of  your  telling  me  to  go 
back  and  leave  you !  You  must  be  crazy." 

"  Well,  come  on,  then,"  she  said,  with  a  bright  laugh,  at 
the  same  time  giving  the  steeds  a  sharp  cut  with  the  whip. 
The  horses  dashed  up  the  hill  in  sudden  flight.  Hugh  Win 
chester  soon  tightened  the  reins  upon  them,  and  reduced 
them  to  order.  He  turned  very  red  in  the  face  with  passion, 
but  it  passed  away  as  quickly,  and  he  said  gaily  before  they 
reached  the  summit : 

"Well!  Grace,  I'd  be  willing  to  take  any  chances  with 
such  a  woman  as  you.  I  know  now  from  which  branch  of 
your  family  you  get  your  blood.  Hurrah !  now,  for  any 
thing  ahead.  Listen  to  that — do  you  hear  it  ?  What  in  the 
deuce  can  that  be  doing  out  here!  It  must  be  a  picnic 
party." 

They  were  almost  at  the  apex  of  the  hill,  but  not  a 
human  being  was  in  sight.  Over  the  hill  the  enlivening 


224  STOBMCLIFF. 

sounds  of  martial  music  were  rising,  approaching,  flooding 
the  forest,  echoing  back  and  forth  from  the  near  cliffs  of 
the  Hudson,  and  filling  every  listening  heart  with  thrills  of 
excitement  and  joy. 

The  phaeton  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill  and  paused. 
The  grandeur  of  the  scene  upon  the  other  slope  burst  upon 
the  eyes  of  the  riders.  The  onward  tramp  of  thousands  was 
heard  upon  the  hillside,  in  the  highway,  and  on  the  plain 
below.  The  whole  community  was  aroused,  eager,  excited, 
pouring  up  through  the  grove,  tramping  forward  to  the 
sounds  of  thrilling  music,  and  earnestly  looking  forwards  and 
upwards.  Soldiers  in  glittering  trappings,  with  measured 
tread — horsemen  flying  back  and  forth  under  the  maple- 
trees — vehicles  of  every  pattern,  from  the  elegant  barouche 
to  the  clumsy  country  wagon,  loaded  down  with  men,  wo 
men,  and  children  —  all,  all  pressing  eagerly  forwards  and. 
upwards  to  the  music  of  the  bands.  And  then  the  immense 
concourse  of  the  people  on  foot,  moving  on  with  one  soul 
and  one  heart  to  the  presence  of  the  beautiful  being  who  had 
saved  their  town  from  destruction.  They  caught  a  glimpse 
of  her  on  the  summit  of  the  hill,  with  her  dancing  steeds 
almost  uncontrollable  in  the  bursts  of  martial  music ;  and 
with  cries  which  deadened  the  beat  of  drums,  they  shouted 
to  her,  and  cheer  after  cheer  rolled  away  over  the  vast  as 
semblage  as  they  pressed  on.  Oh  !  the  spontaneous,  thrill 
ing,  outgushing  gratitude  of  an  exultant  people  to  the  brave 
woman  who  had  saved  them.  She  looked  bewildered  ;  a 
hazy  mass  of  faces  swam  before  her  eyes,  and  timidly  she 
shrank  back  in  her  seat,  while  her  dark  eyelashes  drooped 
over  those  orbs,  always  modest  and  retiring,  save  in  the  face 
of  imminent  peril.  Her  uncle,  with  a  tight  hold  upon  his 
wild  steeds,  arose  and  waved  his  hat  to  the  advancing  crowds. 
They  acknowledged  the  courtesy  by  shouts  ;  and  eagerly 
pressed  forward,  closing  around  the  phaeton  and  seizing  his 
horses  by  the  bit,  enabled  him  to  soothe  them  to  the  sound  of 
the  rattling  drums.  As  the  people  swept  in  hundreds  around 


STOKMCLIFF.  225 

the  phaeton,  eager  for  a  glance  into  the  countenance  of  Mrs. 
Baltimore,  a  poor  woman  pressed  her  way  through  the  mass, 
and  succeeded  in  reaching  the  front  wheel  of  the  vehicle. 
Lifting  her  child  high  in  the  air,  she  exclaimed  :  "  Now  take 
a  good  look  at  the  sweet,  brave  lady.  Ye  may  live  a  thou 
sand  years,  and  never  look  upon  the  like  again.  God  bless 
ye,  ma'am — don't  be  frightened,  ma'am.  We've  only  come 
to  thank  ye,  for  bein'  such  a  splendid  lady." 

"  Has  any  one  seen  the  Reverend  Charles  Heron,  here  ?" 
inquired  Hugh  Winchester,  anxious  to  relieve  his  niece  of 
the  pressure  from  the  crowd,  which  was  packing  more  densely 
each  instant  about  the  phaeton. 

"  Yes,  your  honor,  here  he  comes — he  is  close  behind  us. 
We  all  broke  his  order  of  march,  when  we  ketched  a  sight 
of  the  lady." 

"  Make  way,  there,"  interrupted  another  voice  of  author 
ity,  as  four  snow-white  steeds,  with  flowing  manes  and  tails, 
made  their  appearance,  prancing  and  bowing  their  heads  to 
the  sound  of  the  music.  They  were  attached  to  a  triumphal 
car  under  whose  white  and  silver  canopy  some  object  of 
great  interest  was  evidently  deposited.  The  crowd  made 
way  for  it ;  and  the  white  steeds  pranced  up  to  the  side  of 
the  phaeton  and  there  paused.  The  Reverend  Charles 
Heron  forced  his  horse  slowly  in  through  the  crowd,  and 
waving  his  hand  to  the  foremost  band  of  music,  it  ceased 
playing.  The  music  in  the  distance  also  ceased ;  and  the 
clergyman,  dismounting,  took  his  stand  beside  the  triumphal 
car.  The  crowd  was  gradually  hushed  into  silence.  Re 
moving  his  hat,  and  bowing  to  Mrs.  Baltimore,  he  said : 

"  I  come,  in  the  name  of  these  assembled  thousands,  to 
offer  you  a  tribute  of  the  heart.  You  did  not  forget  the 
people  in  their  hour  of  suffering  and  despair  ;  and  they  are 
not  going  to  forget  you.  You  have  established  in  their 
hearts  a  monument  of  gratitude,  of  which  this  outward 
token  that  I  shall  present  to  you  is  a  feeble  symbol.  In  that 
fearful  night,  when  horror  and  destruction  and  death  closed 

10* 


226  STORMCLIFF. 

in  upon  us,  and  there  was  no  hand  to  succor,  you  interposed  a 
slight  form  but  a  brave  heart  to  the  raging  flames.  The  strong 
had  fallen  exhausted  to  the  earth,  the  sense  of  the  alert  and 
skilful  was  confounded,  and  over  your  native  town  ruin  brood 
ed.  Then,  upon  the  scene,  with  a  tender  heart  and  angelic 
purpose,  you  burst  like  a  whirlwind  of  God.  Fearless,  unyield 
ing,  patient,  in  the  sharp  sting  of  the  fire,  and  cheering  all  on 
with  accents  which  will  never  be  forgotten  while  hearts  beat 
and  gratitude  lingers  upon  earth,  you  battled  with  the  wild 
element,  and  saved  us.  Your  stand-point  was  our  last  hope ; 
and  without  your  interposition  we  should  all  be  wanderers 
upon  the  earth — homeless,  destitute,  suffering.  The  poor,  the 
friendless,  the  industrious,  the  honest,  the  widow,  the  orphan, 
the  trembling  child,  all  turn  to  you  now  with  the  benediction 
of  the  heart,  and  with  the  prayer  that  among  the  benefactors 
of  humanity,  God  will  remember  you  with  special  favor.  They 
will  remember  you  in  the  prayer  of  the  evening,  that  no  evil, 
no  pain,  no  sorrow  may  fall  upon  your  young  life ;  that  storms 
may  be  tempered  in  kindness  to  you ;  that  the  judgments  of 
Heaven  may  pass  you  by ;  and  that  in  the  eternal  home  of 
the  true  and  the  good  you  may  live  for  ever. 

"  I  am  deputed  to  present  to  you,  in  behalf  of  the  people  of 
your  native  town,  this  symbol  and  monument  of  the  fire. 
Keep  it  as  the  pledge  of  hearts.  Transmit  it  to  your  heirs 
as  an  encouragement  to  virtue,  and  self-sacrifice,  and  intre 
pidity.  To  its  construction  nearly  every  hand  in  the  town 
has  contributed.  The  widow's  mite  and  the  rich  man's  offer 
ing  have  commingled  to  buy  it.  I  have  seen  the  arm  of  the 
trembling  invalid  reach  from  the  couch  to  drop  an  offering 
into  the  box,  while  lips  murmured  blessings  upon  your  head. 
I  have  seen  the  innocent  child  reach  on  tip-toe  to  deposit  her 
little  memorial.  There  is  but  one  voice,  one  sentiment, 
from  the  aged  to  the  young ;  and  that  is,  'May  our  preserver 
ever  enjoy  the  richest  blessings  of  God.'  " 

He  ceased,  and  turning  to  the  triumphal  car  drew  aside 
the  silken  curtains,  exposing  the  flashing  memorial  of  the 


STOBMCLIFF.  227 

people.  It  was  a  miniature  town  of  solid  silver,  at  least  six 
feet  square.  Every  street  and  lane  was  accurately  defined, 
and  along  them  drooped  the  elms  and  maples,  with  silver 
foliage  exquisitely  traced.  The  public  buildings  and  the 
church-spires  were  in  their  appropriate  localities  and  propor 
tions.  Over  one  side  of  the  town  swept  the  silvery  flames — 
buildings  tottering  to  their  fall,  and  people  rushing  away  to 
places  of  safety.  Four  unknown  heroes  were  entering  houses 
in  their  hideous  disguise,  and  beneath  their  heroic  likenesses 
were  engraved  the  words — "  To  be  unveiled  in  Heaven." 
The  white  steed  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  was  in  the  fore 
ground,  rearing  his  forefeet  in  terror  at  the  flames.  His 
rider  was  waving  her  handkerchief  towards  the  court-house, 
and  cheering  the  men  on.  Even  the  Englishman,  Sir  Francis 
Cleveland,  was  represented  bravely  toiling  amid  the  firemen. 
The  whole  dreadful  scene  was  renewed  accurately  in  silver. 

Mrs.  Baltimore,  too  bewildered  and  excited  to  respond, 
whispered  to  her  Uncle  Hugh  to  answer  for  her.  Mr.  Win- 
»  Chester  arose  in  the  phaeton  and  gracefully  returned  thanks 
for  the  honor  done  her  in  the  presentation  of  the  elegant 
memorial.  Thunders  of  applause  followed  his  speech ;  and  then, 
at  the  signal  from  the  clergyman,  the  military  bands  struck 
tip  a  triumphant  march,  moving  off  towards  the  town.  The 
people  slowly  and  reluctantly  formed  their  returning  line  of 
march,  cheering  as  they  passed  away  down  the  slope  of  the 
hill,  till  the  river-cliffs  rang  again  and  again  with  the  wild 
echoes  of  their  shouts  and  the  measured  responses  of  the 
bands.  In  a  few  moments  they  had  passed  away  home 
ward,  and  the  occupants  of  the  phaeton  were  left  alone  with 
the  white  steeds  of  the  memorial-car,  and  the  two  grooms' 
with  silver  scarfs  who  were  to  lead  them  to  "  The  Glen."  So 
absorbed  had  the  young  widow  been  by  the  surprise  and 
excitement  of  the  great  meeting,  that  she  had  forgotten 
to  wave  back  the  expected  signal  to  the  remainder  of  her 
party,  who  had  been  directed  to  await  it  at  the  foot  of  the 
hill  behind  her.  Hearing  the  bursts  of  martial  music,  but 


228  STOEMCLIFP. 

too  refined  to  violate  her  programme,  her  guests  were  con 
gregated  at  the  foot  of  Wizard's  Hill  in  vehicles  or  mounted, 
awaiting  her  pleasure.  Only  Sir  Francis,  catching  a  glimpse 
of  the  crowd  gathered  about  the  phaeton,  had  presumed  to 
ascend  the  hill  after  her.  He  arrived  in  time  to  see  the 
multitude  descending  the  slope,  and  beheld  with  amazement 
the  canopy  and  its  dancing  steeds.  Wheeling  his  horse  to 
the  side  of  the  phaeton,  he  exclaimed : 

"  I  have  come  unheralded  and  uninvited.  By  George  !  I 
fancied  you  were  reviewing  an  army,  by  the  sounds  I 
heard.  What  does  all  this  mean  ?  A  triumphal  car  which 
looks  as  if  it  might  have  come  from  the  train  of  some  chaste 
goddess !  And  here  is  a  silver  mine — streets,  houses,  churches, 
people,  flames — all  done  in  silver.  What  a  country  !  What 
a  people !  Pardon  my  intrusion,  but  the  thing  had  a  public 
look,  so  I  ventured  without  your  handkerchief-call.  Am  I 
excusable  ?" 

The  lady  addressed  was  fairly  trembling  with  emotion. 
She  controlled  herself,  however,  and  said,  pointing  to  the 
memorial : 

"  That  is  a  token  of  gratitude  for  the  salvation  of  the  town. 
Ypu  will  find  everybody  delineated  there;  you  are  there, 
too,  Sir  Francis.  Go  up  and  examine  it,  and  see  if  you 
can  detect  your  own  likeness.  It's  a  way  .we  have  in  this 
country  of  preserving  old  family  silver-plate.  Don't  look  so 
astounded,  but  go  and  examine  it.  You  know  I  told  you 
yesterday  not  to  be  surprised  at  anything ;  novelty  is  our 
national  characteristic.  Here,  assist  me  to  alight,  and  I  will 
examine  it  with  you." 

The  Englishman  dismounted,  and  giving  his  bridle  to  one 
of  the  grooms  of  the  car,  returned  to  Mrs.  Baltimore's  assist 
ance,  after  hailing  the  party  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  invit 
ing  them  to  ascend.  He  was  amazed  at  the  exceeding  beauty 
and  delicacy  of  the  workmanship,  when  he  came  to  examine 
the  memorial  closely.  But  when  he  recognised  his  own 
figure  among  the  heroes  of  the  fire,  he  could  not  conceal  his 


STOEMCLIFF.  229 

satisfaction.  He  was  really  there,  and  the  realization  of  the  per 
sonal  compliment  seemed  to  aid  him  materially  in  pronounc 
ing  upon  the  good  taste  and  workmanship  of  the  memorial. 

"  A  really  excellent  specimen  of  mechanical  skill.  It  bears 
unmistakable  evidence  of  being  done  by  an  English  work 
man  ;  but,  no  doubt,  some  one  domiciled  in  this  country.  A 
man,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  must  serve  a  thorough  apprenticeship 
to  work  well  in  metals,  or  indeed  in  any  art.  You  will  find 
English  manufacture  always  superior  in  the  long  run.  There 
is  no  department  of  art  in  which  you  will  not  find  the  supe 
rior  benefits  of  English  regularity  and  apprenticeship.  Every 
man  in  England  is  confined  strictly  to  his  own  art,  and  in 
that  results  always  superiority." 

"  How  about  the  art  of  war,  Sir  Francis  ?"  inquired  Mrs. 
Baltimore,  with  a  twinkle  in  her  eyes,  as  she  turned  towards 
her  uncle.  "We  had  a  seven  years'  struggle  with  your 
regulars  who  had  served  their  time.  Of  what  account  were 
your  apprentices  of  war  ?" 

"  Nonsense,  Mrs.  Baltimore ;  don't  always  be  alluding  to 
that.  Everybody  knows  that  war  was  an  anomaly." 

"  Well,  Sir  Francis,  that  word  anomaly  will  always  be  the 
American  palladium  of  success.  With  us  it  signifies  genius. 
The  nations  of  the  earth  may  monopolize  regularity  to  their 
hearts'  content.  Anomaly  in  our  hands  will  deal  surprise- 
blows  that  will  secure  us  a  fair  share  of  victories,  either  in 
trade  or  science  or  war.  It's  a  peculiarity  of  our  people,  and 
we  prosper  under  it.  But  there  come  the  rest  of  the  party  ; 
how  stupid  of  me  to  forget  the  signal !" 

Exclamations  of  delight  arose  from  the  new-comers.  Con 
gratulation  and  praise  was  the  order  of  the  day.  After  some 
discussion  as  to  the  proper  locality  at  "  The  Glen  "  for  the 
reception  of  the  memorial,  it  was  finally  decided  to  place  it 
as  a  permanent  ornament  in  the  centre  of  the  round  dining, 
table,  which  the  taste  of  the  original  Baltimore  had  esta 
blished  under  the  dome  of  the  mansion.  The  party  then 
turned  their  horses'  heads  homewards,  the  triumphal  car  with 


230  STOBMCLIFF. 

its  snowy  steeds  taking  the  lead,  and  Sir  Francis  Cleveland 
and  Nicholas  Traver  acting  as  its  mounted  escort.  By  the 
time  the  pageant  had  reached  the  porter's  lodge  of  "The 
Glen,"  the  sun  had  gathered  his  scarlet  and  golden  ministers 
of  state  to  his  retiring  couch,  to  hear  his  mandates  ere  he  fell 
asleep.  As  the  gay  procession  slowly  approached  the  mansion 
under  the  ancient  trees,  the  liveried  servants  and  the  maids 
congregated  upon  the  great  circle  before  the  porch,  in  wonder 
at  the  mysterious  car  of  state.  They  had  heard  the  vague,  ru 
mor  of  a  surprise  at  the  hour  of  lunch,  and  here  it  was,  surely 
coming.  When  the  excitement  attending  its  arrival  had 
subsided,  and  the  silver  town  had  been  deposited  under  the 
dome,  Mrs.  Rudd,  who  had  remained  at  home  during  the 
surprise-ride,  appeared  at  a  door  of  the  dining-hall,  and  indi 
cated  that  an  arrival  of  interest  had  occurred  during  the 
young  widow's  absence.  Leaving  her  guests  lounging  and 
chatting  about  the  memorial,  Mrs.  Baltimore  followed  Nora 
to  the  front  drawing-room,  unobservant  of  the  glances  ex 
changed  between  the  old  nurse  and  the  artist  Rogers.  It 
occurred  to  the  mistress  of  the  house  that  Nora's  expression 
was  triumphant  or  self-satisfied,  as  she  summoned  her  away 
from  her  guests ;  but  the  significance  of  that  look  was  destined 
to  remain  for  a  long  time  uninterpreted.  Entering  the  draw 
ing-room  first,  Nora  drew  aside  the  window  curtains  and 
allowed  the  fading  light  of  day  to  fall  upon  a  portrait  on  the 
wall.  It  was  the  lost  picture  of  Gertrude  Baltimore.  It  had 
been  newly  and  elegantly  framed,  and  a  fresh  look  was  the 
result  of  a  recent  coat  of  varnish  delicately  spread  over  the 
canvas.  The  singular  velvet  cap  and  tassels  described  by 
Weaver,  the  gardener,  instantly  attracted  attention.  There 
was  no  head-dress  in  the  recollection  of  the  young  widow  in 
any  of  her  wanderings,  so  grotesque,  and  yet  so  effective 
and  beautiful.  There  was  a  commanding  look  in  the  face  of 
this  Baltimore,  unlike  any  of  the  other  portraits  in  the  room. 
There  was  a  general  resemblance  to  the  other  members  of 
the  family ;  but  the  eyes  were  different  in  shape  and  color 


STORMCLIFF.  231 

The  Baltimore  eye,  common  to  all  the  portraits,  was  a  pierc 
ing  black.  Gertrude  Baltimore's  eye  was  almond-shaped  and 
grey.  The  lady  who  had  been  the  cause  of  alienating  the  an 
cient  estate  from  that  family  blood,  stood  silent  and  thoughtful 
a  long  time,  gazing  at  the  portrait.  She  possessed  a  constitu 
tional  reverence  for  anything  old  and  venerable.  Once,  that 
face  had  ruled  supreme  in  the  household  where  now  her  own 
rule  was  established.  That  form  had  swept  in  authority 
through  the  halls  of  her  ancestors  ;  and  tradition  had  coupled 
gentleness  and  power,  pomp  and  charity,  with  the  memory 
of  that  woman's  soul.  Would  she  be  able  to  sustain  the 
dignity  of  the  estate  which  had  fallen  to  her  hands  as  firmly 
as  the  face  which  looked  at  her  from  the  wall  ?  Would  her 
memory  be  precious  in  the  thoughts  of  her  present  compa 
nions  and  guests  ?  These  reflections  were  dreaming  in  her 
brain  as  she  stood  silently  contemplating  the  picture,  or 
passed  back  and  forth  to  new  positions,  to  study  effects  of 
light  and  shade.  Finally,  she  appeared  to  weary  of  this 
strange  relic  of  the  past,  and  turned  to  her  companion  for 
information.  The  portrait  had  been  produced  upon  her  inti 
mating  to  Nora  that  she  was  aware  of  its  existence,  and 
wanted  it.  The  old  nurse  had  promptly  answered  all  inqui 
ries  about  its  existence  by  saying  that  she  recollected  it,  and 
would  restore  it  to  the  parlor  wall  when  it  had  been  properly 
cleaned  and  its  •  crumbling  frame  replaced.  There  was  the 
picture,  as  she  had  promised,  in  its  new  frame.  That  picture 
which  had  cost  her  that  hour  of  agony,  that  mental  struggle, 
that  secret  theft.  And  yet  she  was  as  calm,  as  unmoved 
by  its  presence  on  the  wall,  as  if  her  struggle  had  been  only 
a  dream.  Had  a  change  come  over  her  pride,  over  her  con 
science,  over  her  sensitiveness,  that  she  stood  thus  impertur- 
bably  studying  the  young  mistress  as  she  gazed  upon  the 
picture.  The  inquiry  from  Mrs.  Baltimore  came  startlingly  : 

"  Did  you  know  her,  Nora  ?  " 

After  a  pause  of  a  few  seconds,  in  which  she  appeared  to 
study  mentally,  she  answered : 


232  STOEMCLIFF. 

"  Yes !  I  knew  her  well." 

The  tone  was  hoarse,  hollow-sounding.  It  caused  the 
inquirer  to  start  and  look  at  the  old  nurse.  She  was  con 
templating  the  picture  with  a  look  in  which  the  young 
widow  fancied  was  blended  an  expression  she  had  never  seen 
in  Nora's  face — awe,  apprehension. 

"  Was  she  reputed  stern,  cold  ?" 

The  question  seemed  to  surprise  the  tall  woman,  who  look 
ed  so  dark  and  shadowy  in  the  fading  twilight.  The  glitter 
of  her  strange  eyes  appeared  to  soften  at  the  question.  She 
turned  to  a  seat  at  the  window,  and  motioned  to  her  com 
panion  to  sit  beside  her.  Mrs.  Baltimore  joined  her  on  the 
sofa,  taking  her  aged  hand,  as  was  her  wont,  when  they  were 
alone  together.  She  loved  her  old  nurse  with  a  more  ardent 
affection  than  she  did  any  relative  on  earth.  She  removed 
her  riding-hat,  and  dropped  it  beside  the  sofa.  Nora  appear 
ed  to  be  dreaming  of  the  past.  She  was  silent  for  awhile, 
holding  the  little  hand  which  had  been  placed  so  lovingly  in 
her  own.  At  last  the  old  woman  said,  in  a  tone  husky  at 
first,  but  clear  and  musical  as  she  warmed  with  interest  in 
her  subject: 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  Gertrude  Baltimore ;  and  I  assure 
you,  Grace,  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  spoken  of  her  to  any 
one.  My  lamp  of  life  flickers  feebly.  The  old  woman  can 
not  be  spared  much  longer  from  eternity;  and  as  my  life 
totters  to  its  grave,  my  old  heart  warms  towards  you.  My 
child,  I  want  to  confide  in  and  love  you  better  than  anything 
that  lives.  You  have  sweetened  my  bitter  cup  of  life.  You 
have  been  to  me  the  angel  of  peace  which  sometimes  pre 
cedes  the  angel  of  death.  As  I  look  upon  you  and  your  life 
day  by  day,  and  see  how  bravely  and  sweetly  you  try  to  do 
right  amid  the  temptations  and  vanities  of  wealth  and  adula. 
tion  which  have  fallen  so  lavishly  upon  you,  I  am  praying 
all  the  time  for  God  to  assist  you.  I  watch  every  motion 
you  make,  and  hear  almost  every  word  you  utter,  when  I  am 
near.  It  is  the  yearning  of  my  heart  to  guide  you  and  warn 


STOKMCLIFF.  233 

you  of  snares.  It  did  seem  at  one  time  as  if  all  the  powers 
of  darkness  had  conspired  against  your  young  life.  But,  thank 
God,  that  is  past.  And  yet,  even  now,  you  are  not  quite 
happy.  I  can  see,  Grace,  that  you  do  not  find  that  conge 
niality  and  sympathy  in  your  father  that  you  anticipated. 
He  withdraws  into  himself  when  you  are  with  him.  He 
seems  ill  at  ease  in  your  companionship.  This  is  not  an  un 
common  experience  to  those  who  have  had  as  many  opportu 
nities  of  studying  families  as  I  have  ;  but  let  that  remain  in 
the  hands  of  God.  He  purposes  well  for  you  in  it ;  and  no 
doubt  you  will  find  a  love  which  shall  fill  your  great  heart 
and  comfort  you  yet.  Be  brave  in  the  desolation  of  the  heart, 
and  so  will  God  reward  you  as  you  bear  patiently.  But  I 
was  going  to  tell  you  of  Gertrude  Baltimore.  I  trust  her 
spirit  hears  and  loves  us  at  this  minute  in  the  court  of 
heaven.  You  asked  me  if  she  was  called  a  stern,  cold  woman. 
If  ever  a  woman  possessed  a  loving,  tender  heart,  it  was  she. 
But  she  had  strong  feelings  of  family  pride.  She  believed 
people's  standard  of  acting  and  thinking  was  elevated  by  pre 
serving  family  traditions  and  family  consequence.  She  was 
intensely  opposed  to  any  of  her  blood  marrying  "  beneath 
them,"  as  the  phrase  of  society  goes.  She  was  a  woman  of 
rare  talent.  Everything  that  related  to  the  great  and  the 
influential  in  history  at  once  enlisted  her  sympathy  and 
attention.  She  idolized  great  characters  and  distinguished 
houses;  and  she  was  partial  to  such  works  as  treated  of 
women  of  royal  blood  who  maintained  the  dignity  of  their 
positions  under  severe  ordeals.  She  was  the  patroness  of 
genius  in  every  department,  and  her  portfolio  was  rich  in 
letters  from  men  of  worth.  Of  course  I  speak  now  with  the 
understanding  of  a  girl.  I  give  the  impressions  of  a  young 
female  mind  at  an  age  when  allowances  must  be  made  for 
enthusiasm,  and  the  estimate  of  character  is  not  tinctured  by 
prejudices,  religious  or  conventional.  An  act  of  deceit,  an 
approach  even  to  dishonor  in  one  of  her  blood,  caused  such 
revulsion  of  feeling  that  she  would  isolate  herself  for  days, 


234  STOBMOLIFF. 

and  even  weeks,  from  the  offender.  She  felt  it  as  a  personal 
disgrace,  and  only  time  could  eradicate  her  resentment.  But 
pride  for  her  kin  was  blended  ever  with  affection.  She  would 
make  personal  sacrifices  for  them  with  as  little  apparent  re 
luctance  as  she  received  favors  from  them.  It  was  the  con 
sciousness  of  her  exalted  character  that  made  hostility  from 
her  so  painful  to  her  friends.  Her  ripe  judgment  almost 
invariably  vindicated  itself  in  the  long  run,  and  her  predic 
tions  of  character  were  always  verified.  She  was  the  occa 
sion,  it  is  said,  of  saving  large  wealth  to  her  family  by  her 
management  in  an  important  lawsuit.  In  the  height  of 
family  prejudice  and  legal  excitement,  she  insisted  upon  a 
compromise  being  effected.  She  saved  half  of  her  immense 
claim.  Persistency  in  the  suit  would  have  lost  all.  Her 
toilet  was  almost  severe  in  its  simplicity;  but  she  would 
wear  none  but  the  most  expensive  velvets  and  laces.  She 
used  to  say  that  hospitality  was  the  mark  of  a  great  soul. 
She  despised  accumulation  of  wealth  for  its  own  sake,  and 
always  employed  it  for  the  happiness  of  others.  In  times  of 
financial  panic,  when  even  the  liberal  draw  tightly  on  their 
purse-strings,  she  was  wont  to  say,  '  The  great  day  for  God's 
poor  has  come ;  who  giveth  freely  in  the  hour  of  general 
calamity  and  panic,  giveth  with  difficulty,  and  that  is  charity.' 
I  could  tell  you  of  many  independent  acts  she  did  in  the 
Church,  but  I  would  only  tire  you.  She  was  a  strong  charac 
ter,  and  once  her  name  was  in  every  mouth ;  but  I  find  as 
we  grow  old,  the  idols  of  our  young  days  are  forgotten." 

"  Did  you  live  near  this  property,  in  those  days  ?"  inquir 
ed  Mrs.  Baltimore. 

The  darkness  had  gathered  too  densely  in  the  apartment 
for  Nora's  countenance  to  be  seen,  else  the  inquirer  would 
have  detected  uneasiness  in  those  aged  features  as  she  studied 
her  reply.  At  length  she  answered : 

"  I  have  passed  weeks  and  even  months  under  this  roof  with 
Gertrude  Baltimore.  I  have  been  speaking  from  my  know 
ledge  derived  during  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  family." 


STORMCLIFF.  235 

"Then  you  must  have  known  my  husband  in  his  early 
life." 

"  Oh !  yes,"  was  the  calm  response ;  "  I  knew  him  well. 
It  was  my  knowledge  of  his  character  that  induced  me  on 
that  fatal  night  to  seek  to  prevent  the  marriage.  But  it  was 
too  late." 

"  Was  he  in  early  life  so  intensely  selfish  ?" 

"  The  same  hard,  inexorable  self-seeker ;  the  same  vindic 
tive  nature.  Triumph  or  revenge  was  ever  his  motto,"  was 
Nora's  reply. 

The  young  widow  remained  thoughtful  and  silent,  holding 
the  aged  hand.  When  she  spoke,  her  companion  was  startled 
at  the  echo  of  her  own  secret  thoughts. 

"  Nora,  I  don't  like  my  father's  attentions  to  Kate.  Their 
natures  are  discordant,  and  she  is  too  young  for  him.  Yet 
it  is  the  first  approach  to  a  real  attachment  on  her  part  I 
have  ever  seen." 

"Would  you  like  to  have  those  attentions  end?"  was  the 
earnest  inquiry  from  the  old  nurse. 

'.'  Why,  Nora  ?     Why  do  you  ask  in  that  tone  ?' 

"  I  can  part  them  wider  than  the  sea." 

"  I  know  you  are  almost  a  miracle-worker,  my  dear  nurse, 
but  such  aifairs  defy  bars  and  bolts." 

"  I  have  a  sceptre,  omnipotent  for  this  purpose.  Give  me 
authority  to  use  it  in  your  house,  and  the  matter  shall  end 
where  it  is." 

"  Is  it  a  secret,  Nora  ?" 

"It  is." 

"  My  dear  old  nurse,  I  trust  you ;  trust  your  judgment ; 
trust  you  in  everything.  If  you  will  break  off  this  intimacy, 
no  tongue  can  tell  you  my  gratitude." 

"  Leave  everything  to  me,  then ;  and  in  a  few  days  your 
wish  and  my  wish  shall  be  accomplished." 

"  I  shall  study  you  and  your  management.  I  don't  believe, 
Nora,  in  your  reputed  supernatural  power.  Good-by,  my 
darling  old  witch ;  there  is  the  summons  to  our  late  dinner." 


236  STORMCLIFF. 

She  rushed  away  up-stairs  with  her  bonnet  in  hand,  and 
left  Nora  pacing  the  floor  in  the  darkness,  and  muttering  to 
herself: 

"  By  the  power  Heaven  has  given  me,  it  shall  end — if  pride 
is  left  in  woman's  heart !  But  pride — aye !  pride  sometimes 
is  trampled  out  by  love." 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

THE  moon  in  full  splendor  lighted  the  shrubbery  of  the  gar 
den  as  two  females  passed  slowly  along  the  walk  in  earnest 
converse.  They  spoke  in  subdued  tones,  as  the  night  was 
lovely,  and  other  guests  might  be  seated  under  the  arbors 
enjoying  the  cool  air  after  the  feverish  day.  As  they  pene 
trated  further  into  the  shadowy  wood  which  bordered  the 
glen,  and  left  the  flower-beds  of  the  garden  behind  them, 
they  raised  their  voices  and  spoke  without  restraint.  Allured 
by  the  beauty  of  the  scene,  they  held  on  their  way  until  they 
had  passed  the  rustic  bridge,  and  entered  the  wilds  beyond 
the  brook.  Continuing  on,  they  reached  the  basin  in  the 
side  of  the  cliff,  where  the  antique  drinking-cup  stood.  The 
unveiled  power  of  the  moon  silvered  the  water  in  the  basin, 
and  as  the  two  paused  to  watch  the  play  of  the  fluid,  as  it 
leaped  from  the  cliff  in  diamond  sparks,  and  then  circled 
around  its  stone  receptacle,  their  figures  were  clearly  revealed 
in  the  moonlight.  They  could  be  seen  by  any  one  approach 
ing  from  either  direction  on  the  path,  and  abundance  of  time 
would  be  given  them  to  change  the  current  of  their  dis 
course,  in  the  event  of  any  intruder  appearing.  The  younger 
of  the  two  raised  the  iron  cup  and  studied  its  strange  work 
manship,  but  her  thoughts  were  dwelling  on  other  subjects. 
She  was  evidently  embarrassed,  for  she  bit  her  lip  several 


STOEMCLIFF.  237 

times,  and  then  looked  long  and  earnestly  into  the  basin. 
She  knew  that  dark  eyes  were  eagerly  regarding  her,  and 
she  could  not  look  up  at  them.  They  were  keen  eyes,  read 
ers  of  thought  often.  And  she  knew  that  fact  from  ex 
perience.  At  last,  after  an  inward  struggle  of  several  minutes, 
during  which  both  remained  silent,  Miss  Angier  said,  in  ac 
cents  of  extreme  sadness  : 

"  It  seems  as  if  all  that  is  earnest  and  truthful  in  my  life — 
all  that  is  good — is  destined  to  be  trampled  under  foot. 
Nothing  in  me  meets  with  encouragement  and  assistance 
but  the  evil.  Frivolity,  fashion,  all  the  impulses  of  a  butter 
fly  nature,  are  readily  gratified ;  their  requirements  fly  to 
my  hand,  while  the  demands  of  a  true  womanhood  go  beg 
ging.  I  must  have  some  position  in  life  assigned  me  by  God. 
I  must  have  been  intended  to  fulfil  some  mission.  What  is 
it  ?  I  feel  that  I  can  make  somebody  a  good  wife.  I  am 
conscious  of  ability  to  assume  duties  in  life,  and  fulfil  them 
completely.  And  here,  after  a  wandering,  purposeless  life, 
I  find  a  being  congenial,  sympathetic  with  my  tastes.  One 
who  meets,  or  appears  to  meet,  all  the  requirements  of  my 
nature.  He  offers  me  marriage.  There  is  everything  in  his 
possession  to  make  me  happy,  and  just  in  the  midst  of  it  all, 
you  start  up  before  me  like  a  statue  of  warning,  and  bid  me 
shun  him.  It  is  only  respect  for  your  character  that  suffers 
me  to  listen  to  you.  You  have  shown  me  repeated  kindness. 
I  cannot  question  your  sincerity.  Mrs.  Baltimore's  commen 
dation  of  you  confirms  my  own  judgment.  And  yet  your 
advice  dashes  to  the  earth  all  the  precious  contents  of  my 
little  cup  of  hope  and  joy.  You  have  sent  through  my 
dreams  of  happiness  a  shudder.  You  bid  me  distrust  him, 
and  your  marvellous  possession  of  our  secrets — secrets  whis 
pered  to  each  other  when  no  human  ear  was  near — gives 
you  the  occasion  to  converse  with  me  of  my  heart-treasures. 
Oh !  I  have  the  right  to  demand  all  your  sources  of  informa 
tion,  of  slander  against  him.  He  appears  so  pure,  so  noble, 
so  generous.  You  must  bring  to  me  proofs,  not  bare  asser- 


238  STORMCLIFF. 

tions  against  his  character.  I  demand  this  as  the  right  of  a 
woman's  heart.  I  do  believe  that  I  act  from  principle.  My 
ideas  of  a  future  life,  of  religion,  may  nut  coincide  with  yours, 
but  I  am  nevertheless  earnest  in  my  convictions  of  morality. 
If  you  will  prove,  absolutely  prove  to  me  his  treachery 
towards  women,  I  will  give  up  this  ride  to  his  estate.  I  will 
withdraw  myself  from  his  influence.  Tell  me,  did  he  betray 
to  you  that  his  miniature  was  hidden  in  my  bosom  ?" 

"  No,  never,"  was  the  frank  response.  "  I  believe  he 
would  not  betray  a  secret  between  himself  and  a  woman. 
He  is  too  crafty  and  far-seeing  for  that." 

"  Then  you  give  him  no  credit  for  honor.  He  does  not, 
in  your  opinion,  act  from  honorable  principle,  but  only  from 
craft." 

"  That  is  precisely  my  estimate,"  was  the  cool  reply. 

"  And  you  think  he  will  not  marry  me,  after  his  solemn 
promise  ?  " 

"What  is  a  promise  from  a  man  who  regards  not  the 
sovereignty  of  God  ?  "  was  the  solemn  response. 

"  And  you  will  not  tell  me  how  you  knew  of  the  miniature 
and  our  engagement  ?  " 

"  Only  on  the  conditions  I  have  stated,"  was  the  firm  reply 
of  the  reputed  prophetess. 

Miss  Angier  looked  long  and  seriously  into  the  rock  basin. 
Her  faith  in  the  man  she  loved  began  to  waver.  She  did  not 
believe  in  the  supernatural,  and  without  its  assistance  it  was 
impossible  to  account  for  Nora's  knowledge  of  the  miniature, 
unless  upon  the  supposition  that  Nicholas  Traver  had  in 
some  way  violated  his  promise  of  secresy.  Nora  had  even 
detailed  to  her  the  conversation  in  which  he  had  declared 
his  love  to  her,  and  given  her  his  likeness.  After  a  time,  she 
looked  up  earnestly  at  her  tall,  silent  companion.  If  she  was 
gifted  with  supernatural  power  and  insight,  as  many  con 
tended,  then  there  was  sufficient  explanation  of  that  remark 
able  brilliancy  of  the  eyes  which  were  regarding  her,  search 
ing  her  mind,  piercing  into  her  very  soul — those  terrible 


STORMCLIFF.  239 

eyes.  Miss  Angler  instantly  averted  her  gaze.  It  seemed 
like  lifting  up  the  mirror  of  her  heart  for  Nora  to  study. 
What  should  the  bewildered  girl  do?  It  would  never 
answer  the  requirements  of  sense  to  go  on  blindly  now,  and 
continue  her  intimacy  with  that  man  after  such  a  fearful 
warning.  Her  all  was  staked  upon  this  game  of  life — of 
marriage — of  hope.  Should  .she  seek  explanation  from  his 
insinuating  lips  ?  Nora  had  warned  her  of  the  serpent 
tongue,  and  its  persuasive  powers.  She  studied  long — she 
studied  well.  Raising  her  eyes  to  the  prophetess,  she  said  : 

"  Tell  me  how  you  learned  of  the  miniature  being  in  my 
possession.  Convince  me  that  he  whispers  in  another  wo* 
man's  ear  the  love  which  he  declares  to  be  mine  alone,  and  I 
will  carry  out  your  conditions,  and  fling  his  attentions  to  the 
winds  with  contempt." 

"  I  knew  you  had  character ;  I  knew  you  were  a  true 
woman,  else  I  should  not  have  ventured  to  approach  you," 
exclaimed  Nora,  her  eyes  beaming  with  triumph.  "  You 
are  saved,  Miss  Angier ;  and  some  day  you  will  bless  my 
poor  old  memory.  But  you  must  fulfil  my  conditions  first. 
In  observing  them,  the  facts  will  come  to  you.  The  know 
ledge  you  demand,  and  my  conditions,  are  probably  directly 
in  your  way ;  this  very  night  I  intend  to  intrust  a  secret  to 
you  within  the  hour.  Will  you  keep  it  inviolate  ?  Will  you 
go  with  me ;  and  when  you  have  learned  the  secret  of  my 
power  over  you  to-night,  will  you  keep  it  sacredly,  and  act  as 
conscience  and  reason  demand  hereafter  in  regard  to  it  ?" 

"  Mrs.  Rudd,  I  will." 

"  Then  await  my  return  here.  I  am  going  to  the  house. 
If  I  am  detained  unexpectedly,  still  be  patient  and  wait  for 
me.  I  am  going  to  reconnoitre.  I  will  either  return  for  you 
myself  or  send  a  messenger  to  you.  Be  patient  and  trust 
me,  for  I  am  your  friend,  and  the  friend  of  all  the  innocent." 

The  old  nurse  took  the  hand  of  the  white-robed  girl, 
pressed  it  warmly  to  her  lips,  and  then  turned  away  to 
wards  the  distant  mansion.  She  passed  away  in  the  moon- 


240  STORMCLIFF. 

light,  and  after  a  few  seconds,  her  dark  figure  vanished 
behind  the  trees  which  intervened  between  the  rock  basin 
and  the  bridge  of  unhewn  oaks.  All  was  silent  now,  and 
the  expectant  watcher  looked  up  seriously  to  the  chaste  god 
dess  of  the  night.  Hushed  were  the  dense  tops  of  the  pines 
where  the  silvery  flood  lingered.  The  moss  on  the  rocks 
revealed  each  green  fibre  in  the  broad  glare.  Only  the  sound 
of  the  trickling  water  was  heard,  as  it  dashed  into  the  basin 
in  silver  threads,  or  sparkled  downwards  in  diamond  drops. 
The  maiden  pondered  the  inscription  on  the  cup  in  her  hand. 
" EXOPTO  " — " I  ardently  desire"  Yes ;  in  the  buried  city 
of  past  ages,  parched  lips  and  anxious  hearts  had  gathered 
to  the  fountains  to  slake  their  thirst.  The  good  God  had 
given  His  creatures  drink.  Was  He  not  able  to  give  to  her, 
the  maiden,  a  cup  of  love — pure,  crystal  water — from  the 
fountain  of  a  sincere  heart ;  from  a  manly  heart,  capable  of 
appreciating  the  delicate  and  refined  devotion  of  a  woman  ? 
But  would  He,  the  kind  Creator,  send  her  love,  or  was  He 
about  to  dash  aside  the  love  she  craved,  and  on  its  frightful 
ruin  establish  only  solitude  and  despair  ?  Laying  the  iron 
cup  on  the  basin,  she  drew  from  her  bosom  the  miniature. 
Who  dared  pronounce  that  exquisite  semblance  of  manly 
beauty  false — a  libertine  ?  She  gazed  long  upon  the  Adonis 
face,  and  its  outlines  recalled  the  love  which  Nora  had  de 
clared  should  pass  away  like  the  whirlwind.  How  little  could 
the  old  woman  realize  the  intensity  of  confidence  which  love 
entails  in  a  girl's  heart.  "  No !  no  !  "  she  murmured,  as  she 
looked  upon  the  likeness,  holding  it  up  to  the  moon.  "  He 
bears  upon  his  exterior  the  marks  of  inward  purity  and 
truth.  I  will  obey  Mrs.  Rudd,  because  I  have  promised.  I 
will  follow  her  to-night,  only  to  find  confirmation  of  his  inno 
cence  and  love  for  me.  Truth  reigns  yet  on  the  earth,  and 
he  is  its  symbol."  She  hastily  replaced  the  likeness  in  her 
bosom,  for  she  fancied  some  one  was  crossing  the  bridge  of 
oaks.  It  was  a  false  alarm.  No  footsteps  were  near.  Then  she 
paced  slowly  back  and  forth  along  the  path,  her  shadow  her 


STORHCLIFF.  241 

only  companion  in  the  evening  silence.  She  imagined  she 
must  have  walked  back  and  forth  for  nearly  a  half-hour. 
The  place  where  she  was  waiting  had  slowly  passed  into 
shadow  as  the  moon  moved  on.  Still  Nora  did  not  appear. 
She  grew  impatient,  uneasy.  She  did  not  fancy  the  idea  of 
remaining  so  far  from  the  house,  and  alone.  Finally,  weary 
of  the  long  delay,  she  walked  slowly  on  towards  the  bridge. 
She  passed  into  the  dark  shadows  of  the  interlacing  pines. 
She  paused  and  listened  for  a  few  moments.  No  one  was 
coming,  evidently.  She  moved  on  further  towards  the  bridge, 
and  found  the  darkness  more  gloomy  still.  She  passed  on 
again,  till  she  reached  the  bank  of  the  stream.  The  view 
here  was  more  cheerful.  The  moonbeams  lighted  the  eddy 
ing  water,  and  she  walked  upon  the  bridge  to  look  at  it. 
She  leaned  her  white  figure  over  the  oaken  rail,  and  stood 
for  a  long  time  watching  the  water  as  it  moved  in  a  dark 
sullen  stream  out  from  the  shadows  of  the  overhanging 
pines,  and  then  suddenly  was  transformed  to  a  sheet  of  sil 
ver.  Just  under  the  bridge  it  passed  over  a  pebbly  bed  in 
ripples  of  silver.  She  could  see  it  through  the  openings  be 
tween  the  rude  oak  timbers  which  made  the  floor.  Thus,  she 
thought,  flowed  the  stream  of  life — dark,  then  smooth  and 
beautiful  in  the  light  of  joy  !  then  broken  and  shattered,  and . 
passing  from  view.  She  was  aroused  by  the  breaking  of  a 
twig.  She  looked  up  ;  a  dark  figure  was  moving  between 
the  trees  on  the  bank.  It  must  be  the  old  nurse.  The  figure 
advanced  rapidly — too  rapidly  for  comfort  on  the  warm  even 
ing.  Her  conjecture  was  correct.  It  was  Nora,  walking 
rapidly  for  one  of  her  years.  'She  uttered  an  exclamation  of 
caution  as  she  discovered  the  watcher  so  far  advanced  on  her 
way  homeward. 

"  Be  careful ;  pass  into  the  shade  on  this  side.  Some  one 
is  coming  behind  me,  and  I  don't  want  to  be  seen  by  any 
one  just  now." 

Miss  Angier  obeyed  the  direction,  and  drew  herself  into 
the  thicket  beside  Nora.  They  were  effectually  concealed. 

11 


242  STORMCLIFF. 

In  a  few  seconds,  a  gentleman  and  lady  passed  along  the 
path,  and  crossed  the  bridge  with  a  slow  step.  The  hidden 
couple  recognised  them  as  Charles  Delavan  and  Mrs.  Balti 
more.  When  they  had  gone  on  towards  the  rock-basin,  ear 
nestly  conversing  on  some  foreign  topic,  the  hidden  compa 
nions  emerged  from  the  thicket,  and,  taking  a  circuitous 
route  to  avoid  other  strollers,  reached  the  gardens  at  a  point 
quite  near  the  rear  of  the  new  additions  to  the  house.  Here 
Miss  Angier  remained  concealed  under  an  arbor  of  grape 
vines  until  Nora  could  reconnoitre  again.  The  object  was 
to  glide  into  the  hall  which  connected  the  old  and  new  build 
ings  without  being  seen  by  other  inmates  of  the  house,  or 
by  any  of  the  guests  who  might  be  wandering  about  in  the 
moonlight.  Nora  returned  to  the  arbor,  and  reported  the  coast 
to  be  clear.  The  two  then  passed  along  in  the  full  glare  of 
the  moon,  and,  entering  the  connecting-hall,  closed  the  door 
quietly  behind  them.  The  moonbeams  flooded  the  hall 
through  the  side-windows.  No  one  appeared  to  be  stirring 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood ;  and,  after  a  brief  pause,  the 
old  nurse  whispered : 

"Move  quickly  in  before  me.  We  are  going  to  pass 
through  a  secret  door.  Here  your  promise  of  secresy  com 
mences  ;  come  fearlessly  on.  I  know  every  inch  of  the 
way." 

Placing  her  hands  against  a  panel  of  the  wainscot  which 
lined  the  wall,  a  door  swung  inwards,  and  a  gloomy  aperture 
was  visible  in  the  moonlight.  Taking  Miss  Angier  by  the 
arm,  she  gently  urged  her  forward  into  the  darkness,  and 
entering  after  her,  closed  the  secret  door  behind  them. 
Then  she  directed  the  young  lady  to  place  her  right  hand 
upon  the  wall  of  the  concealed  tunnel  and  walk  on  as  fast 
as  she  conveniently  could,  assuring  her  that  there  were  no 
obstacles  in  her  .way.  Miss  Angier,  in  amazement,  put  out 
her  hand,  and  discovered  that  the  wall  was  covered  with 
some  soft  material  like  baize.  The  floor  of  the  tunnel  was 
carpeted  with  the  same  material.  Nora  encouraged  her  in 


STOEMCLIFF.  243 

the  darkness,  and  thus  stimulated  and  curious,  she  passed  on, 
feeling  her  way  by  the  wall.  When  her  feet  at  length  came 
in  contact  with  a  woollen  obstruction  on  the  floor,  of  which 
her  companion  had  warned  her,  Miss  Angier  paused,  and 
waited  for  further  instructions  how  to  proceed  in  this  un 
known  way.  She  was  then  informed  of  a  rise  in  the  floor — 
a  gentle,  easy  rise — which  she  must  ascend  carefully  and 
slowly,  avoiding  conversation.  At  the  termination  of  this 
rise  she  was  to  meet  a  cord  secured  to  the  side-wall.  By 
the  aid  of  this  hempen  bannister  she  would  ascend  two  steps, 
and  then  must  remain  silent  and  attentive  in  the  darkness. 
Nora  promised  to  follow  her  closely,  and  take  her  hand  when 
she  had  reached  the  topmost  of  the  two  stops.  She  was 
assured  that  she  would  learn  a  secret  during  that  attentive 
silence  which  would  serve  her  a  good  purpose  in  life.  Awe 
struck,  the  young  lady  moved  on  in  the  impenetrable  gloom, 
with  no  conception  of  her  whereabouts,  and  no  idea  of  the 
result  of  this  apparently  subterranean  journey.  She  felt  only 
that  she  was  in  the  power  of  a  strange  being,  reputed  to  be 
gifted  with  supernatural  vision,  and  urging  her  forward  to 
some  terrible  revelation  in  life.  She  had  given  her  promise 
of  secresy,  and  nothing  remained  but  to  push  on  to  the 
dreadful  reality  ahead  in  the  gloom. 

Miss  Angier  was  not  devoid  of  fortitude  and  spirit,  and 
resolutely  she  groped  her  way  on.  Ascending  the  rise  ahead 
of  her,  she  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps  and  put  out  her  hand 
for  the  bannister.  It  met  her  groping  hand,  and  by  jits  assist 
ance  she  arose  almost  perpendicularly  upwards  on  the  two 
steps.  Pausing  with  beating  heart,  she  heard  voices,  and 
felt  a  current  of  cool  air  circulating  about  her  head.  All, 
however,  was  dark  as  the  ancient  blackness  of  Egypt.  Hush  ! 
the  music  of  a  voice  which  had  often  thrilled  her  heart  was 
distinctly  audible.  The  tones  were  the  loving  accents  which 
she  had  dreamed  were  never  assumed  but  for  her  ear  alone. 
Aye  !  more  ;  they  were  tones  which  denied  the  power  of  her 
own  fascinations,  and  vowed  by  the  bright  and  holy  stars  of 


244  STORMCLIFF. 

heaven,  that  the  love  of  Nicholas  Traver  had  been  be 
stowed,  and  for  ever,  upon  the  sister  of  the  artist  Rogers. 
The  listening  girl  heard  distinctly  Lucretia  Rogers  avow  her 
joy  at  the  confession  and  promise  to  be  the  wife  of  Nicholas 
Traver.  She  turned  as  cold  as  the  marble  statue  of  Vigil 
ance  in  whose  covered  pedestal  she  stood  concealed.  Nora 
felt  her  hand  turn  cold  in  her  grasp,  as  she  extended  her  arm 
upwards  to  sustain  her.  She  feared  the  poor  girl  would  faint 
and  fall.  She  miscalculated  the  endurance  of  that  betrayed 
woman's  heart.  Miss  Angier  remained  silent  and  listening, 
till  enough  was  learned  to  satisfy  incredulity  of  the  man's 
utter  falsity.  She  heard  him  declare  that  he  had  passed  so 
much  of  his  time  in  her  society  in  order  to  divert  attention 
from  his  real  love  for  the  artist's  sister.  She  heard  him  de 
nounce  herself  as  trivial,  worldly,  and  unworthy  of  a  serious 
affection.  Her  bright  dream  had  a  fearful  awakening,  and 
when  she  descended  at  length  noiselessly  to  Nora's  side,  she 
pressed  both  arms  around  the  old  woman's  neck,  and  laid 
her  head  in  confidence  and  gratitude  upon  her  bosom.  It 
was  more  effective  than  a  dangerous  whisper  under  the  sta 
tue  of  Vigilance,  and  expressed  to  the  old  nurse's  heart  the 
acknowledgment :  "  You  have  saved  me  from  a  fate  worse 
than  death." 

Softly,  silently  they  stole  away  in  the  darkness  from  the 
statue  which  looked  sternly  upon  deceit  and  treachery,  and 
when  they  reached  the  secret  door,  and  emerged  unobserved 
into  the  hall,  Miss  Angier  whispered  freely  to  the  old  nurse 
her  gratitude  that  the  great  snare  of  her  life  had  been  severed 
by  her  hand,  and  she  was  enabled  to  emerge  once  more  into 
the  open  air  of  an  innocent  existence. 

The  mystery  of  the  miniature  was  explained  to  her.  When 
Mary  Delavan  retired  from  the  saloon  so  abruptly  during  the 
reading  of  the  novel  by  "  Recluse,"  Nora  had  followed  her 
in  solicitude  to  her  room.  Ascertaining  that  she  was  not  ill, 
she  had  left  the  young  lady  alone  in  retirement,  and  had  im 
mediately  entered  the  secret  passage  to  ascertain  if  her 


STORMCLIFF.  245 

suspicions  regarding  Mr.  Traver's  attentions  to  Miss  Angler 
were  well  founded.  She  arrived  under  the  statue  in  time  to 
hear  the  engagement  confirmed,  and  heard  the  lady  ac 
knowledge  the  receipt  of  the  miniature.  Aware  of  the 
treacherous  character  of  the  man  with  whom  she  had  to 
deal,  she  had  watched  his  every  movement  during  his  inter 
course  with  Kate  Angler.  His  attentions  during  the  read 
ing  of  the  novel  had  appeared  more  marked  and  devoid  of 
caution  than  usual.  The  time  had  evidently  arrived  when 
she  felt  bound  to  interpose  for  the  trusting  girl's  salvation. 
She  reached  the  hollow  pedestal  in  the  midst  of  his  confes 
sion  of  attachment  and  heard  him  insist  that  the  engage 
ment  should  remain  secret.  The  experience  of  the  past 
warned  her  of  his  evil  intent.  She  knew  his  vaulting  ambi 
tion  would  never  permit  him  to  marry  a  poor  girl  of  Miss 
Angler's  position.  She  resolved  to  warn  her,  to  save  her. 
Mrs.  Baltimore's  request  that  the  intimacy  should  be  broken 
had  only  strengthened  her  in  her  holy  purpose.  She  Ifad 
sought  an  interview  with  the  young  lady ;  and,  having 
secured  her  assent  to  the  conditions,  hastened  away  to  the 
mansion  to  watch  the  movements  of  Nicholas  Traver  and 
the  artist's  sister,  who  were  evidently  paired  for  the  evening. 
For  a  long  time  they  wandered  about  the  gardens,  and  she 
had  cautiously  followed,  her  dark  dress  enabling  her  to 
remain  concealed  in  the  shadows  of  the  shrubbery.  In  pass 
ing  her  once  she  had  heard  Nicholas  Traver  propose  to 
visit  the  saloon  and  view  the  fountain  of  mermaids  by  moon 
light.  His  suggestion  was  acquiesced  in  by  his  companion ; 
and  Nora  hastened  away  to  secure  Miss  Angler's  presence  at 
the  interview.  She  earnestly  desired  that  they  should  con 
verse  near  the  statue  of  Vigilance.  She  had  observed  that 
the  divan  under  it  was  a  favorite  resort  of  Nicholas  Traver. 
Success  had  attended  her  in  her  calculations  and  the  evil 
purpose  of  the  man  was  foiled.  She  now  advised  Miss 
Angler  to  play  her  cards  with  a  view  to  commit  the 
deceiver  to  paper  in  his  avowals  of  love,  that  she  might  be 


246  STORMCLIFF. 

the  means  of  saving  Miss  Rogers  also.  The  secret  of  the 
hidden  way  was  to  be  revealed  to  no  one.  The  artist's  sister 
was  to  be  put  on  her  guard  by  Miss  Angler's  management 
alone.  With  this  understanding  they  parted  in  the  garden  ; 
and  Nora  was  soon  after  summoned  by  a  maid  to  the  pre 
sence  of  Mrs.  Baltimore.  The  purpose  for  which  she  was 
called  by  the  mistress  of  "The  Glen"  was  to  secure  her 
advice  in  regard  to  what  lawyer  she  should  consult  in  mak 
ing  her  will. 


•         *  CHAPTER  XXH. 

THE  door  of  the  private  library  where  Mrs.  Baltimore  was 
seated  was  opened  by  a  servant,  and  Mr.  Rutherford  was 
announced.  She  was  awaiting  his  arrival.  Seated  in  a  large 
arfn-chair  covered  with  green  leather,  she  had  been  examin 
ing  a  bundle  of  legal  papers.  The  parchment-wrapper  and 
tape  had  been  laid  aside,  and  the  papers  were  scattered  over 
her  table.  It  was  her  private  room  for  the  transaction  of 
business — small,  elegantly  furnished  in  colors  of  green  and 
oak — where  she  was  accustomed  to  hold  consultations  with 
Nora,  who  acted  in  the  capacity  of  her  steward.  The  ser 
vices  of  the  lawyer  had  been  secured  on  the  recommendation 
of  his  friend  the  old  nurse.  She  had  only  mentioned  that 
he  was  young  and  struggling  in  his  profession,  but  was 
worthy  of  trust,  and  clear-headed  in  the  transaction  of  legal 
business.  The  servant  closed  the  door  upon  retiring,  and 
the  young  widow  saw  that  she  was  confronted  by  a  man  in 
iron-grey  dress.  A  quick,  searching  look  informed  her  that 
he  was  clad  in  coarse,  cheap  garments ;  had  a  black  necktie 
and  a  rolling  collar ;  possessed  a  mouth  of  wonderful  propor 
tions  for  the  destruction  of  bread  and  butter,  and  an  eye 
which  looked  empire.  She  arose  courteously,  and  extended 
her  hand  to  him. 


STOEMCLIFF.  247 

"  I  am  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Rutherford.  Mrs.  Rudd, 
my  friend  and  steward,  is  your  eulogist.  She  informs  me 
that  you  are  eminently  capable  in  your  profession,  and,  at  her 
request,  I  have  sent  for  you.  Be  seated,  if  you  please." 

The  man  in  iron-grey  bowed  low,  and,  without  a  word, 
drew  a  chair  near  to  the  table.  His  first  glance  at  her  upon 
entering  the  apartment  gave  him  the  impression  of  beauty, 
grace,  modesty.  His  tastes  were  in  the  line  of  blonde  ladies, 
and  he  did  not  care  to  study  her  further.  He  noticed  that 
her  eyelashes  drooped,  and  that  she  did  not  look  long  and 
steadily  at  him.  Finding  that  reticence  was  her  style,  he 
cared  not  to  intrude  upon  it ;  and  after  glancing  about  the 
apartment  and  dwelling  with  peculiar  interest  upon  the  ele 
gant  cases  of  books,  he  turned  to  the  papers  on  the  table, 
and  said,  pleasantly : 

"  Your  pursuits  are  anomalous  for  a  lady,  if  I  may  judge 
from  the  titles  upon  the  back  of  some  of  these  papers.  You 
have  been  making  yourself  familiar,  it  appears,  with  tfce 
intricacies  of  equity  and  law." 

"My  position,  sir,  is  anomalous,"  was  the  reply,  coupled 
with  a  smile  and  a  glance  at  him. 

"In  what  respect,  madam?"  he  asked,  touched  by  the 
gentle  tones  of  the  lady's  voice.  Woman's  real  power  is  con 
densed  in  that  low,  sweet  accentuation,  if  she  could  but  learn 
to  employ  it  alone. 

"At  an  age  when  most  girls  enter  upon  the  duties  of  mar 
ried  life,  and  think  experience  cheaply  bought  in  four  or  five 
years'  trial,  I  find  myself  a  widow,  with  the  responsibilities 
of  managing  an  immense  estate  in  lands  and  stocks  and  mort 
gages.  There  is  property  enough  represented  in  these  papers 
on  my  table  to  satisfy  the  wants  of  ten  large  families  of  rank 
and  consequence  in  society.  The  judicious  management  of 
it  all  requires  no  trifling  amount  of  industry  and  atten 
tion." 

.  The  broad  smile  which  illumined  his  exaggerated  feature, 
as  he  looked  playfully  at  her,  made  one  forget  how  dread- 


248  STORMCLIFF. 

fully  nature  had  violated  proportion  in  moulding  his  mouth. 
Every  line  of  it  was  teeming  with  fun,  as  he  answered : 

"  There  are  no  doubt  a  few  self-sacrificing  children  of  men 
who  would  be  willing  to  take  a  share  of  this  property,  and 
thus  relieve  you  of  the  burden  partially." 

Mrs.  Baltimore  laughed  at  his  raillery ;  and,  relieved  of 
the  impression  of  solemnity  and  sternness  which  his  features 
had  indicated  upon  his  entrance,  shot  bolder  glances  at  him 
from  under  her  eyelashes.  Her  idea  of  power  in  his  eyes 
was  confirmed.  He  loves  books,  she  thought,  recalling  his 
long  gaze  at  her  book-shelves.  Now,  if  those  grey  eyes 
could  be  experimented  with  hi  the  realm  of  science  or  art, 
what  strange  light  might  be  evolved  from  them !  His  forehead 
confirms  my  suspicion  of  mental  power.  I  cannot  conceive 
what  Nora  means  by  his  struggling.  His  garments  are  plain 
enough,  but  his  ease  of  manner  and  his  self-possession  indi 
cate  claims  to  notice  which  society  can  hardly  refuse.  No 
doubt  he  is  a  lion  in  literary  circles.  That  iron-grey  suit  is 
the  very  eccentricity  and  armor  of  genius.  I  rather  like  it. 
It  is  just  the  thing  to  grapple  and  wrestle  intellectually  in. 
I  pronounce  mentally  in  favor  of  iron-grey.  He  is  all  power 
and  humor ;  no  gentleness,  I  predict.  This  train  of  thought 
was  running  upon  time  in  her  brain.  She  had  to  check  it 
for  her  answer : 

"You  are  right:  we  often  find  fault  with  people  and  things 
that  we  would  not  part  with  under  any  circumstances.  No 
doubt  I  am  just  as  reluctant  to  pai't  with  my  estates  as  the 
poorest  man  in  this  neighborhood.  I  would  like  to  have  two 
sets  of  brains — one  to  take  care  of  my  property,  and  the 
other  to  enjoy  it." 

"  Ladies  accomplish  that  result  by  marrying,  sometimes," 
was  the  instant  response,  the  genial  smile  again  sweeping 
away  her  reserve. 

"They  stake  their  all  upon  a  lottery  then,"  she  said,  laugh 
ing,  without  knowing  why  she  laughed.  His  humor  was 
irresistible.  She  laughed  because  he  lausrhed.  Then  he 


STORMCLIFF.  249 

checked  himself,  as  if  he  fancied  he  was  trespassing  upon  her 
time,  and  said : 

"  You  sent  for  me,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  to  write  your  will  for 
you.  If  you  will  indicate  your  wishes,  if  you  have  them 
accurately  arranged  in  your  mind,  I  will  put  them  on  paper 
for  you  in  legal  phrase.  If  you  are  doubtful  of  what  the  law 
permits  you  to  do,  I  will  gladly  aid  you  by  my  advice.  If 
your  plans  of  disposing  of  your  property  are  intricate,  it  may 
be  necessary  for  me  to  consult  men  of  more  legal  experience 
than  myself.  It  would  be  absurd  for  me  to  pretend  to  be 
a  great  legal  light,  and  to  know  everything  accurately  about 
wills  and  testaments.  I  know  enough,  however,  for  ordinary 
purposes  of  disposition  of  estates  by  will.  With  this  preface, 
I  am  at  your  disposal." 

This  was  said  so  naturally,  modestly,  without  the  least 
vestige  of  conceit,  that  the  widow  was  charmed.  She  gained 
confidence,  and  looked  more  steadily  at  the  young  lawyer 
as  she  spoke. 

"I  have  no  question  of  your  ability  to  advise  me,  Mr. 
Rutherford,  as  Nora  declares  in  your  favor  with  great  earnest 
ness  ;  and  she  is  a  genius  in  many  respects.  The  lawyer  who 
has  been  my  counsel  in  other  matters  I  have  discarded  from 
my  confidence,  though  he  was  sent  to  me  by  my  father.  He 
was  too  obscure  in  his  legal  phraseology  in  several  matters 
of  business,  and  I  cannot  endure  what  I  cannot  be  made  to 
understand.  In  my  management  of  my  own  affairs,  I  must 
and  will  know  what  I  am  doing.  But  my  principal  motive 
in  dispensing  with  his  services  is  the  assurance  which  came 
to  me  that  he  acted  on  one  occasion  with  marked  meanness 
and  want  of  gratitude.  The  lawyer  I  allude  to  is  the  Hon. 
George  Robinson,  member  of  Congress  for  this  district.  Do 
you  know  him  ?" 

"  Very  well,"  was  the  response.  "  I  do  not  think,  however, 
I  ever  heard  anything  discreditable  of  him." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore.  "  His  offense  would 
not  be  considered  of  great  consequence  by  men  generally, 


250  STOKMCLIFF. 

but  it  shocked  me  greatly.  It  appears  that  a  young  orator, 
who  possesses  great  powers  of  eloquence  and  persuasion,  by 
his  efforts  during  the  canvass  elected  this  gentleman  to  office. 
It  was  generally  conceded  that  he  had  done  so  by  his  elo 
quence.  Hon.  George  Robinson,  though  solicited  afterwards 
to  contribute  a  few  law-books  to  aid  this  young  man  in  his 
legal  career,  absolutely  refused.  The  candidate  who  was  de 
feated,  like  a  generous  being  as  he  was,  was  so  shocked  by 
the  man's  hardness  of  heart  and  his  want  of  common  grati 
tude,  when  he  learned  of  this  refusal  through  a  secret  source  of 
information  (for  the  request  was  not  a  public  one),  that  he 
quietly  purchased  a  set  of  law-books  and  deposited  them  upon 
the  young  orator's  door-step  at  night.  I  think  the  ingratitude 
of  the  one  and  the  magnanimity  of  the  other  are  unparalleled. 
I  made  bold  to  tell  Mr.  Robinson  this  on  his  last  professional 
visit  to  me.  He  did  not  attempt  to  dispute  the  fact  of  his 
refusal,  but  insisted  that  there  was  no  legal  or  moral  reason 
why  he  should  give  away  law-books.  The  man  did  not  even 
look  ashamed,  and  I  parted  with  him  professionally  for  ever. 
Nora  told  me  of  the  whole  affair,  and  that  is  the  reason  why 
I  am  left  without  a  legal  adviser." 

"  I  shall  be  happy  to  supply  any  deficiency  that  I  can,  Mrs. 
Baltimore,"  was  the  reply,  delivered  with  an  effort,  at  least, 
at  calmness.  She  fancied  the  young  lawyer  turned  a  trifle 
paler,  and  that  the  movement  he  made  towards  the  table  arose 
from  uneasiness.  Not  dreaming  whom  she  was  addressing, 
she  ascribed  his  manner  to  a  dignified  unwillingness  to  speak 
disrespectfully  of  a  fellow-member  of  the  bar.  Respecting 
this  delicacy  of  his  profession,  she  changed  the  subject  quick 
ly,  and  proceeded  to  state,  in  detail,  the  plans  she  contem 
plated  in  the  disposition  of  her  immense  estate,  in  the  event 
of  her  dying  unmarried.  An  enumeration  of  her  possessions 
became  necessary  to  a  full  comprehension  of  her  wishes  in 
framing  the  will.  As  a  guide  to  his  memory,  the  lawyer 
noted  down  with  pencil  and  paper  the  various  items  of  her 
wealth,  as  she  gave  them  to  him.  After  a  long  column  had 


STOEMCLIPF.  251 

been  written  in  pencil  of  lands,  leases,  bank  stocks,  mort 
gages,  personal  effects,  et  cetera,  and  she  had  directed  names 
of  legatees  to  be  noted  down  opposite  the  different  amounts, 
the  lawyer  laid  down  his  pencil  and  said : 

"  That  is  a  wonderful  column  of  what  the  clergy  call  the 
filthy  lucre.  This  is  all,  then,  complete.  As  I  glance  my  eye 
over  the  figures  it  appears  to  foot  up  millions.  Now  for  the 
duration  of  the  estates  you  propose  to  create.  Are  these  de 
vises  to  be  absolute,  or  do  you  propose  to  create  life  estates 
in  some  of  them,  with  remainder  to  others  ;  or  are  any  of  them 
to  be  trust  estates  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  are  infants  or 
incompetent  to  manage  property  ?  " 

,  "  Wait  a  minute,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore.  "  You  have  only 
the  list  of  my  property  in  America.  Make  a  heading  for 
another  column — call  it  what  you  please — it  will  be  my  funds 
and  securities  in  Europe." 

"  What !  more  ?"  exclaimed  the  astonished  lawyer.  "  Have 
you  committed  a  great  crime,  that  Heaven  has  imposed  this 
enormous  burden  upon  you  ?  Please  tell  me,  do  you  sleep 
nights,  Mrs.  Baltimore  ?  " 

"  Money  never  keeps  me  awake,  that's  sure,"  was  her  reply. 

"  Well,  I  know  I  shouldn't  sleep  a  wink  with  such  respon 
sibilities.  I'd  be  for  ever  hiring  guards  to  protect  me,  and 
then  sitting  up  all  night  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  on  the 
guards  myself." 

Mrs.  Baltimore  looked  archly  at  him  as  she  answered : 

"  That  shows  the  goodness  and  forbearance  of  Providence. 
I  have  noticed  that  persons  of  brains,  whose  exact  and  care 
ful  business  habits  of  acting  and  thinking  would  be  over 
whelmed  by  the  cares  of  great  wealth,  seldom  have  it  thrust 
upon  them.  They  rarely  possess  more  than  a  competency. 
On  the  other  hand,  those  who  would  be  the  last  ones  selected 
by  a  vote  of  the  intelligence  of  the  community  to  be  the 
proper  recipients  of  wealth,  somehow  succeed  in  gaining 
possession  of  it.  They  hold  it,  manage  it,  and  appear  to 
stagger  very  little  under  their  burdens.  They  succeed  very 


252  STORMCLIFF. 

well.  Look  at  the  holders  of  great  wealth  among  your  im 
mediate  acquaintances.  What  proportion  of  them  rank  among 
what  you  would  style  'the  ablest  minds  of  the  land  ?'  There's 
a  fatality  about  it,  or  rather  God  prefers  not  as  a  rule  to 
combine  accumulative  power  with  mental  power.  I  do  not 
deny  the  exceptions,  but  what  is  the  rule  ?  " 

Rutherford  looked  at  her  earnestly.  She  was  a  woman  of 
ideas,  then.  She  thought  and  reasoned  independently.  It 
might  be  well  to  look  at  her  dark  eyes  more  closely.  Intel 
lect  sometimes  catches  its  inspirations  from  the  sympathetic 
eyes  of  strangers.  The  lambent  brilliancy  of  his  genius- 
orbs  was  manifest  as  he  said  to  the  young  widow,  who  had 
moved  her  chair  nearer  to  the  table,  and  now  sat  with  her 
cheek  resting  upon  her  closed  hand,  and  the  symmetry  of  her 
wrist  revealing  itself  beneath  her  mourning  sleeve : 

"  Those  who  have  looked  long  and  earnestly  upon  nature 
— animate  or  inanimate — are  prepared  for  anything.  The 
bird  that  I  reclaim  from  the  wilderness  and  teach  to  regard 
my  hand  as  a  petting  friend,  charms  me  by  the  rich,  aye, 
gorgeous  plumage  of  his  species.  Why  did  not  God  endow 
him  with  the  gift  of  song  ?  I  weary  of  him  at  last,  and  turn 
to  the  plain  homely  thrush,  who  pours  the  little  rivers  of  his 
melody  down  the  wild  rock-turnings  of  my  heart,  till  cascades 
of  pleasure  foam  there  and  sparkle  in  the  sun,  o'erarched  by 
the  rainbow  of  enjoyment.  He  speaks  to  my  soul.  God  has 
given  him  power — internal  power — and  he  perches  and  sings 
beside  the  scarlet  robe  and  the  tuft  of  black-crown  feathers 
till  the  gay  bird  looks  stupid  and  tame.  Why  his  plain  robe 
is  never  exchanged  for  the  other's  scarlet  mantle,  I  cannot 
tell.  I  gathered  some  wild  flowers  once,  so  beautiful  and 
bright,  that  I  detected  them  afar  off,  and  climbed  a  danger 
ous  place  to  own  them.  I  walked  home  with  them  nodding 
their  beautiful  heads  at  me,  and  attracting  the  eyes  of  every 
one  who  passed  by.  But  when  I  sought  for  fragrance,  there 
was  none.  The  simple  cluster  of  tiny  white  flowers,  that 
gently  waved  on  the  bush  beside  my  window,  filled  the  air 


STORMCLIFF.  253 

with  sweetness  and  balmy  life,  and  I  turned  to  them  in  pre 
ference.  I  sat  beside  a  girl  so  richly  endowed  with  beauty 
and  languishing  grace  that  I  fancied  for  a  time  my  ideal  was 
realized  ;  but  when  a  plain  simple  companion  of  hers  entered, 
and  the  conversation  commenced,  the  sceptre  passed  from 
the  exterior  to  the  interior  beauty.  Had  that  beautiful  girl 
the  gift  of  sense  and  appreciation  also,  she  would  rule  all 
things  with  an  iron  hand.  Too  much  of  power  would  attend 
the  combination.  So  it  is  of  wealth  and  intellect.  They  are 
dangerous  in  one  man,  but  exercise  a  salutary  balance  upon 
society  in  two." 

She  was  regarding  him  earnestly.  Once  or  twice  their 
eyes  met,  and  the  consciousness  flashed  to  each  that  they 
were  created  to  quench  their  intellectual  thirst  on  the  same 
bank  of  the  stream  of  life.  The  voices  on  the  other  and 
lower  bank  seemed  far  off"  and  husky  with  the  sensual  cries 
of  existence.  For  them  poesy  seemed  to  lower  her  flowery 
ladder  and  invite  them  to  the  ethereal.  Nature,  like  an 
angel,  stood  flinging  wide  the  portals  of  her  realm,  and  point 
ing  through  it  all  to  heaven  beyond.  Kindred  fires  were 
lighted  from  the  watch-towers  of  their  eyes,  and  in  pleasant 
communion  the  moments  sped  away.  The  struggling  lawyer 
and  the  heiress  of  millions  forgot  the  business  of  the  hour, 
and  over  the  paper  representatives  of  opulence  exchanged  or 
clashed  the  crystal  goblets  of  thought,  and  remembered  not 
the  scythe-bearer  who  calls  for  the  account  of  stewardship 
at  every  turning  of  his  glass. 

At  length  Rutherford  recollected  himself,  and  paused  in 
the  midst  of  one  of  his  descriptions. 

"  But  this  delightful  interchange  of  thought  is  the  viola 
tion  of  all  the  laws  of  business  and  order.  I  have  been 
tempted  away  from  duty.  This  will  requires  much  labor. 
Please  indicate  the'  items  of  this  second  column,  and  I  will 
soon  be  able  to  commence  in  earnest." 

His  companion  reluctantly  relinquished  the  conversation, 
saying : 


254  STOBMCLIFF. 

/ 

"  Making  a  will  is  preparing  for  death.  It  is  one  prepa 
ration,  at  least.  I  trust  every  other  effort  to  be  ready  will  be 
as  diligently  followed  up  as  this.  Now  we  will  go  on  with 
the  inventory  of  goods  and  chattels.  First,  my  English 
stocks,  two  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Put  that  down  as  a 
legacy  to  my  uncle,  Hugh  Winchester." 

She  looked  at  the  broad  white  forehead  and  grey  eye  as 
he  wrote.  Legacy  after  legacy  was  indicated  by  her,  and  at 
length  the  column  was  complete.  Then  he  prepared  the  pa 
per  for  the  will  carefully,  and  laying  the  pile  of  half-sheets 
beside  him,  commenced  to  write  the  opening  acknowledg 
ment  of  the  supremacy  of  the  Deity.  He  read  it  to  her  as 
his  pen  flew  along  the  paper,  and  as  the  style  had  not  been 
adopted  in  the  will  of  her  deceased  husband,  it  was  strange 
and  novel  to  her,  causing  an  emotion  of  awe.  She  inter 
rupted  : 

"  Mr.  Rutherford,  do  you  commence  every  will  with  that 
recognition  of  God  ?  Suppose  one  does  not  believe  in  the 
existence  of  a  Supreme  Being  ?" 

"  Then  it  is  not  entered  at  the  opening  of  the  instrument. 
It  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  validity  of  the  will.  A  man 
who  denies  God,  of  course,  will  not  in  the  last  act  of  his 
life  acknowledge  him  on  paper.  I  will  change  it,  if  you  so 
prefer." 

He  looked  up  earnestly  at  her  from  his  writing.  She 
smiled  and  said : 

"  Go  on.  I  don't  wish  to  deny  Him.  He  is  the  dearest 
friend  and  companion  of  my  existence.  Can  you  imagine  a 
child,  nursed  and  watched  for  years  by  old  Nora,  to  be  igno 
rant  of  God  ?  Go  on.  I  did  not  know  the  custom.  It  is 
appropriate  and  beautiful." 

The  lawyer  rapidly  proceeded  in  drawing  the  will.  At 
every  new  clause  he  paused  ahd  explained  what  he  was 
about  to  write,  and,  securing  her  assent,  went  on  with  his 
writing.  He  indicated  to  her  at  every  step  what  legal 
terms  meant,  and  her  quick  comprehension  found  no  ditti- 


STOKMCLIFF.  255 

culty  in  expressing  itself.  He  was  delighted  with  her  sense ; 
and,  before  the  document  was  finished,  both  had  formed 
pleasant  impressions  of  each  other's  character.  It  was  seve 
ral  hours  before  the  will  was  finished,  and  during  his  labors 
Mrs.  Baltimore  ordered  lunch  to  be  brought  to  her  private 
library  for  two.  The  entrance  of  the  servant  with  the 
elegant  salver  gave  opportunity  for  another  animated,  dis 
cussion  between  the  mistress  of  "  The  Glen"  and  her  lawyer. 
After  the  lunch  was  over,  Rutherford  paced  up  and  down  the 
apartment  for  a  few  minutes  during  the  discussion  of  the  ex 
pediency  of  inserting  a  particular  condition  in  the  will.  His 
hands  were  crossed  behind  his  back,  and  he  stepped  firmly 
and  evenly  back  and  forth  as  he  talked.  Sl\e  observed,  then, 
with  a  woman's  quick  eye,  how  powerfully  and  beautifully 
nature  had  moulded  him,  as  if  to  atone  for  giving  him  such 
a  mouth.  There  was  not  a  guest  on  her  estate  who  could 
compare  with  him  in  symmetry  and  splendor  of  figure.  Sir 
Francis  Cleveland  was  the  nearest  approach  to  him  in  man 
liness  of  person.  The  point  of  difference  being  settled  at 
length,  the  lawyer  resumed  his  seat  and  proceeded  with  the 
will.  Finally  his  labors  were  over,  and  the  young  widow 
attached  her  signature  and  seal  to  the  document.  He  direct 
ed  her  how  to  proceed  in  obtaining  witnesses  to  the  will ;  and 
then,  at  her  request,  drew  a  receipt  for  the  amount  due  him 
for  his  services.  She  gave  him  her  check  on  the  bank  for 
the  amount ;  and,  after  a  few  formal  remarks,  he  bowed  him 
self  out  of  the  room. 

Mrs.  Baltimore  remained  in  her  seat  for  a  few  seconds  in 
profound  study.  She  was  trying  to  conjecture  where  she  had 
seen  the  lawyer's  likeness  before,  or  some  person  resembling 
him.  She  felt  confident  that  the  peculiar  mouth,  and  fore 
head,  and  eyes  resembled  some  one  she  had  known.  Her 
memory  proved  treacherous  'to  her  at  this  time,  and,  rising 
from  her  seat,  she  proceeded  to  lock  up  the  unattested  will 
in  her  escritoire.  Then,  leaving  the  apartment,  and  passing1 
out  through  the  hall  of  the  front  building,  she  seated  herself 


256  STORMCLIFF. 

in  the  shade  of  the  stone  porch  and  looked  out  upon  the 
park.  The  figure  of  the  lawyer  was  just  passing  away  under 
the  oaks,  mounted  upon  a  black  steed.  A  vehicle  had  passed 
him  approaching  the  house,  and  in  it  she  recognised  the 
figures  of  the  artist  and  his  sister,  Lucretia.  They  were  re 
turning  from  a  drive.  The  horses  dashed  up  to  the  door, 
and  the  two  alighted,  a  servant  being  in  waiting  for  their 
arrival.  The  first  remark  of  Rogers,  on  saluting  the  mistress 
of  the  house,  was : 

"  I  see  you  have  had  a  visit  from  Golden-Lip." 
"  What  do  you  mean  ?     You  speak  in  riddles." 
"Not  at  all.     There  he  goes;  we  have  just  passed  him. 
Why  do  you  look  so  amazed  ?     I  intended  to  be  intelligible, 
whether  I  have  succeeded  or  not.    That  was  Golden-Lip,  the 
man  in  iron-grey,  who  just  left  this  door  on  horseback." 

"  I  am  as  much  in  the  dark  as  before.  Who  is  Golden-Lip  ? 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  person.  That  gentleman  who  has 
just  left  the  park  is  a  young  lawyer  named  Rutherford.  He 
has  been  here  on  business.  Please  explain  yourself,  Mr. 
Rogers." 

"  Never  heard  of  Golden-Lip,  the  glorious  orator  of  the 
highlands ;  the  rising  sun  of  oratory,  the  master  of  the  pas 
sions  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  had  forgotten  how  recently 
you  have  returned  to  your  native  land.  There  goes  a  per 
secuted,  struggling  child  of  genius,  who  is  thrusting  his  great 
soul  into  the  face  of  prejudice,  and  he  is  going  to  sweep 
everything  before  him.  He  is  just  at  the  critical  period  now. 
Oh  !  you  have  never  heard  him.  He  is  a  young  giant.  He 
melted  me  to  tears  when  I  listened  to  him.  I  was  opposed 
to  him  politically;  but  he  vanquished  me,  as  he  has  many 
hundreds.  I  will  follow  him  to  the  death  in  the  principles 
he  has  espoused.  Oh,  you  must  hear  him.  It  is  like  having 
all  the  past  and  beautiful  dreams  of  your  life  recalled  and 
made  real.  He  removes  the  veil  from  facts  and  men,  and 
makes  truth  so  beautiful  and  alluring  that  one  yearns  to  do 
rightly,  and  honestly,  and  nobly.  He  has  a  mission  on  earth, 


STORMCLTFF.  257 

and  he  feels  it.  Golden-Lip !  His  name  is  in  every  mouth. 
He  is  master  of  the  soul." 

The  artist's  eye  fairly  flashed  with  enthusiasm  as  he  spoke. 
Mrs.  Baltimore  looked  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  That  young  man  an  orator !  I  can  readily  believe  him  a 
poet  of  power  and  humor ;  but  there  appears  to  be  little  of 
the  energy  and  indomitable  will  about  him  which  can  storm 
the  citadel  of  prejudice.  There  is  too  much  of  repose  and 
acquiescence  in  his  manner.  He  is  too  sweet  and  beautiful 
in  his  thoughts  to  grapple  with  real  life." 

"Don't  you  believe  that,  Mrs.  Baltimore.  Build  up  now 
the  strongest  prejudice  in  your  mind  that  you  are  capable 
of.  He  has  no  father,  no  mother.  He  is  reputed  to  be  an 
illegitimate  son  of  the  deceased  Judge  Holden.  He  had  few 
friends  a  few  months  ago.  Ladies  will  not  recognise  him. 
Society  welcomes  him  not.  There  is  no  personal  stain  of 
immorality  about  him.  But  he  has  no  position,  except  what 
his  mental  power  is  building  for  him.  Now  go  and  hear  him. 
He  is  out  upon  the  stump  again  for  the  fall  election.  I  tell 
you  he  will  rend  your  soul." 

"  I  heard  of  a  young  orator  who  elected  Mr.  Robinson  to 
Congress,"  she  replied,  musingly. 

"  The  very  man — the  very  Golden-Lip  himself,"  exclaimed 
the  artist.  "  That  was  his  first  effort.  Many  applauded  that 
attempt,  but  many  more  sneered.  Since  that  time  he  has 
been  more  successful.  I  heard  a  prominent  member  of  the 
opposition  party  declare,  that  notwithstanding  his  life-long 
attachment  to  party  and  party  prejudices,  that  young  man 
went  through  him  like  a  whirlwind.  It  is  rumored  that  this 
gentleman  to  whom  I  allude  was  so  impressed  by  his  earnest 
eloquence,  that  he  secretly  caused  a  handsome  present  of  law- 
books  to  be  left  at  his  door.  He  has  been  wretchedly  poorj 
but  his  prospects  are  brightening,  thank  God." 

And  she  had  unfortunately  alluded  to  his  poverty  and  des 
titution  in  his  very  presence ;  harassed  that  noble,  strug 
gling  heart,  by  referring  to  the  base  ingratitude  of  a  man 


258  STORMCLIFF. 

wealthy  and  influential.  She  felt  that  she  would  rather  have 
lost  her  right  hand  than  be  guilty  of  such  an  act.  It  was  too 
late ;  and  he  was  gone.  The  comforting  reflection  was,  that 
she  had  expressed  her  sentiments  pretty  clearly  and  empha 
tically  in  his  presence  regarding  the  splendor  of  the  Hon. 
George  Robinson's  character.  She  was  certain  Rutherford 
must  know  that  she  had  been  unconscious  whom  she  was 
addressing  at  the  time  of  their  interview.  Annoyed  at  the 
pain  she  had  occasioned  through  inadvertence  she  promised 
Rogers  that  she  would  not  fail,  on  some  favorable  opportu 
nity,  to  hear  this  young  giant  of  the  hills,  and  then  entered 
the  house  again  with  her  guests. 


CHAPTER  XXHI. 

LIFT  her  softly,  that  she  may  look  for  the  last  time  upon  the 
setting  sun.  Gently,  tenderly  raise  the  delicate,  weary, 
drooping  little  frame,  that  her  last  glimpse  of  the  beautiful 
world  may  be  comfortable  and  easy.  Alas !  she  is  dying. 
Exhausted  nature  has  yielded  at  last  to  the  disease.  The 
child  of  shame,  with  the  lily-white  heart,  is  passing  away  to 
the  arms  of  God  who  calls  her.  Her  dreams  of  the  angels 
will  become  reality.  Already  the  Good  Shepherd  is  reach 
ing  forth  his  arms  to  the  little  stray,  and  beside  him  gather 
the  angels  appointed  to  bear  her  from  shame  to  glory.  The 
pattering  feet  which  wandered  up  and  down  the  meadows  all 
day,  looking  for  flowers  to  honor  the  messengers  of  God, 
never  once  rested  upon  her  bed  at  night  till  she  had  prayed 
to  her  Father  in  heaven  to  bless  her  and  love  her.  She  is 
ready;  for,  under  the  pious  teaching  of  her  Magdalen 
mother  and  old  Nora,  she  lived  much  in  heaven.  She 
yearned  towards  it,  looked  towards  it,  prayed  towards  it. 
And  now  the  little  life  has  finished  its  mission ;  and  in  the 
arms  of  Nora,  the  faithful  she  is  raised,  to  look  for  the  last 


STORMCLIFF.  259 

time  upon  the  Avest.  When  that  sun  shall  rise  again,  little 
Zoe  will  be  beyond  the  stars.  Come  closer,  trembling 
mother,  and  take  the  last  look  of  your  darling,  your  beauti 
ful  all.  When  Zoe  has  gone  the  cross  which  you  have  taken 
will  bear  more  painfully  upon  your  lonely  shoulders.  You 
will  rise  in  the  morning ;  but  the  little  bed  will  be  empty. 
There  will  be  no  sound  of  pattering  feet  by  day,  no  song  of 
the  angels  at  twilight.  You  have  prayed  that  the  cross  of 
our  blessed  Lord  may  be  your  portion,  that  sin  may  be  van 
quished,  and  you  may  win  eternal  peace.  That  prayer  will 
be  answered ;  but  how  can  you  bear  it  alone,  without  the 
bird-voice  of  your  child  to  sing  to  you  by  the  way  ?  A  little 
advocate  will  sing  beside  the  great  white  throne  for  you ;  but 
you  will  see  her  no  more.  Bear  the  anguish  bravely,  and 
whisper  the  name  of  Jesus,  and  He  will  come  to  you.  Draw 
closer  now  and  listen,  for  the  eyes  of  the  child,  with  a  per 
sistency  and  a  trust  which  only  a  child  can  exhibit,  are  look 
ing  out  towards  that  gate  where  last  he  went  out — the  beau 
tiful  man,  her  father,  who  promised  to  return.  Night  after 
night  has  Zoe  climbed  to  that  window,  to  watch  that  same 
gate,  and  wonder  why  he  did  not  appear.  In  that  one 
glimpse  of  him,  during  his  stolen  interview,  the  child  gave 
to  him  all  that  her  little  heart  could  give.  She  trusted,  and 
loved,  and  longed  for  his  promised  return.  She  still  asks  to 
be  raised  and  adjusted  upon  the  pillows,  that  she  may  see 
him  return.  Fainter  and  fainter  grew  the  dim  rays  of  the 
vanished  sun,  darker  and  darker  gathered  the  shadows,  and 
still  did  the  dying  child  look  out  for  his  coming.  She  mur 
mured  at  last : 

"Tell  him,  dear  mother,  that  I  died  looking  out  towards 
the  gate,  and  put  back  the  hands  of  the  angels  for  him.  They 
reached  forth  for  me  twice,  but  I  put  back  the  hands  of  my 
dear  angels  for  him.  Tell  him  I  saved  the  lilies  under  the 
willow  for  him.  He  will  find  them  ;  they're  all  growing  by 
the  water.  I  wouldn't  touch  one  of  them  till  he  came.  Kiss 
me,  mother ;  you  will  be  lonely  without  little  Zoe.  But  I'll 


260  STOEMCLIFF. 

be  an  angel;  and  then  I  can  come  to  see  you  and  Nora, 
Will  you  put  lilies  in  the  window  for  me  ?  Oh!  I  do  wish 
he  would  come — my  father  would  come." 

The  darkness  had  fallen  densely,  and  the  watchers  could 
no  longer  behold  the  features  of  Zoe.  They  laid  her  gently 
back  upon  the  pillows  and  listened  in  silence  to  her  short 
breathing.  Then  all  was  still,  as  they  prayed  in  their  hearts. 
A  star  twinkled  forth  from  the  sky  as  a  token  that  darkness 
was  past.  Aye  !  the  darkness  and  sorrows  of  shame  and  of 
life  had  vanished  away  in  the  glories  of  Heaven.  The  young 
lily  was  blooming  in  the  garden  of  God.  Rise,  mother,  and 
pray,  and  struggle,  and  die !  Broken-hearted  and  lonely, 
repentant  and  mild,  the  Saviour  will  guide  thee  at  last  to  thy 
child. 

All  night  long  she  watched  beside  her  dead.  Nora  had 
left  her,  called  away  by  her  duties  at  "The  Glen."  The 
angels  had  departed  with  their  spirit-burden :  only  the  mar 
ble-white  casket  was  left  to  her.  But  as  she  prayed  and 
trusted  in  God  the  promise  was  fulfilled.  A  hush  of  peace 
and  divine  consolation  filled  the  room ;  the  spirit  of  God 
passed  over  her  heart,  and  all  was  still.  Patiently,  purely, 
to  live  and  suffer,  to  love  His  poor,  and  to  die  in  His  grace, 
was  the  path  of  her  life.  She  bowed  to  the  mandate  ;  and 
when  the  morning  sun  fell  upon  the  face  of  the  lovely  sleeper 
beside  her,  she  arose  and  walked  out  to  summon  her  servants 
to  pray.  The  influence  of  Nora  had  been  exerted  upon  that 
household  for  years  ;  and  now  the  promised  fruit  rewarded 
the  laborer.  From  the  night  her  child  passed  away  until  the 
day  of  her  own  death  the  sorrowful  mother,  morning  and 
evening,  gathered  her  servants  to  read  and  pray. 

*  ***** 

A  princely  band  swept  by,  with  dancing  steeds  and  long 
plumes  fluttering  in  the  air.  A  snow-white  steed,  of  Arabian 
blood,  led  the  gay  pageant,  and  his  fiery  temper  demanded 
the  rider's  constant  skill  and  attention  to  keep  him  in  control, 
and  check  him  to  the  slower  pace  of  her  company.  Tho 


STORMCLIFF.  261 

lady's  escort  was  an  English  gentleman,  who  rode  a  power 
ful  gelding  of  a  chestnut  color — spirited  and  uneasy,  but 
minding  easily  his  guiding-rein,  and  apparently  unambitious 
for  a  race.  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  well  mounted,  followed 
them,  laughing  in  glee,  and  flinging  back  and  forth  to  each 
other,  as  they  moved  along  the  highway,  jests  and  sparkles 
of  fun.  The  rear  of  the  cavalcade  was  brought  up  by  a  lady 
and  gentleman,  who  appeared  better  pleased  to  converse 
in  earnest  tones  with  each  other  than  to  join  the  revel  of 
repartee  and  wit  ahead  of  them.  The  dilatory  two  were 
Nicholas  Traver  and  Miss  Rogers.  On  horseback  Mrs.  Bal 
timore's  father  was  in  his  glory — self-possessed  and  conscious 
of  his  equestrian  superiority.  His  iron-grey  stallion  feared 
his  rider,  and  him  alone.  The  horse  paced  on,  to  accommo 
date  the  ambling  .step  of  the  lady's  black  gelding;  but  he 
did  so  only  under  fear.  His  ordinary  wild  flights  were  taken 
with  his  master  alone,  and  he  much  preferred  them  to  his 
present  tame  method  of  procedure.  Lucretia  Rogers  pos 
sessed  an  Italian  style  of  face,  and  her  dark  curls  glistened  in 
the  sun,  as  they  trembled  in  unison  with  the  pace  of  her 
gelding.  Her  manner  was  ordinarily  vivacious,  but  the  pre 
sent  subject  of  conversation  seemed  to  reduce  her  to  a  sober 
mood.  She  had  been  secretly  engaged  to  Nicholas  Traver  a 
short  time  previous  to  this  ride,  and  he  was  earnestly  stating; 
to  her  now  some  propositions  for  the  future.  How  startled 
would  both  have  been  could  they  have  known  the  thoughts 
of  Miss  Angiei',  who  was  riding  just  before  them,  and  mak 
ing  merry  with  her  companions,  as  if  nothing  had  interposed 
to  make  her  despise  and  loathe  the  imperial  horseman  behind 
her. 

The  party  had  just  crossed  a  bridge  over  a  stream  which 
wandered  off  under  rows  of  willows,  and  the  last  hollow 
sound  of  passing  hoofs  had  ceased  when  a  gate  was  opened 
on  the  right,  and  egress  given  to  the  highway  for  a  funeral 
train  which  solemnly  moved  out  from  the  boundaries  of  an 
estate.  Nicholas  Traver  had  just  stated  to  his  companion,  in 


262  STOKMCLIFF. 

answer  to  her  inquiry,  that  never  since  the  death  of  his  wife 
had  he  looked  upon  any  woman  with  thoughts  of  love  until 
he  had  met  with  her. 

"And  has  no  woman  ever  loved  you  ?"  was  the  persistent 
inquiry. 

"  Not  to  my  knowledge,"  was  the  reply,  delivered  with  a 
smile. 

"  And  the  treasures  of  your  heart  have  been  hoarded  up 
for  me  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  for  you  alone ! "  He  turned  his  eyes  from  his  com 
panion  and  saw  the  funeral  train  emerging  into  the  highway. 
Checking  his  horse,  he  asked  of  a  man  standing  near  the  gate : 

"  Whose  funeral  is  this  ?  " 

"  Little  Zoe  Granville  is  dead,"  was  the  response. 

How  startled  he  looked,  that  proud,  beautiful  face,  in  the 
sunlight.  His  mother's  name  again.  The  voice  of  his  child 
hood's  friend  calling  to  him  from  eternity.  He  saw  her  grave 
again  and  remembered  his  vows  upon  the  cold  turf;  the  broken 
vows,  the  desecrated  grave — the  violated  memory.  And  the 
little  girl  who  had  opened  her  heart  to  him,  had  kissed  him 
in  trust,  had  looked  anxiously,  trustingly,  no  doubt,  for  his 
return,  had  died  and  her  arms  were  closed  to  him  for  ever ! 
His  lily  child  had  met  him  at  the  gate  where  he  had  promised 
to  enter  in  and  protect  her,  love  her,  elevate  her  to  honor  ; 
and  her  cold  form,  under  the  funeral  canopy,  was  the  dagger 
of  remorse.  Then  and  there  he  had  vowed  also  to  God,  and 
promised  to  live  a  new  life.  His  vows  were  again  broken  ; 
another  grave  was  opened  ;  when  would  his  grave  yawn  in 
the  sunlight  ?  Any  one  would  have  forgiven  him  at  that 
moment  of  agony  and  remorse,  he  looked  so  faint  and  sick 
and  weary  of  himself.  He  felt  so  conscious  of  his  utter  un wor 
thiness,  he  yearned  to  be  a  child  again,  and  to  have  a  pure 
finger  touch  him  in  love  ;  to  have  a  child's  prayer  said  for 
him,  and  then  to  be  buried  in  a  child's  grave.  He  felt  that 
his  place  was  not  upon  the  proud  steed,  but  low  in  the  dust, 
where  the  funeral  car  of  the  innocent  and  the  lovely  could 


STORMCLIFF.  263 

pass  over  his  faithless  form.  He  dismounted  from  his  steed, 
and  stood  holding  the  bridle  with  uncovered  head,  as  the 
funeral  passed  by.  He  saw  the  wreath  of  lilies  on  the  little 
coffin,  and  he  remembered  the  lily  she  clasped  when  she  was 
dreaming  of  the  angels.  His  lip  trembled,  and  tears  gathered 
to  his  eyes.  A  calm,  beautiful  face,  framed  in  a  crape  bonnet, 
passed  him  next ;  and  he  knew  not  the  cross  of  ragged 
iron  she  was  wearing  pressed  closely,  tightly  to  her  heart. 
That  calm  exterior  was  the  face  of  the  future  angel.  She 
did  not  see  him.  Her  eyes  took  notice  of  no  passing  thing. 
She  was  trying  to  catch  the  loving  eyes  of  her  God ;  and  the 
train  moved  on.  Never  mind,  Nicholas  Traver,  the  surprise 
of  your  companion  at  your  strange  conduct.  Be  silent  and 
listen,  for  it  is  the  last  warning  your  soul  will  receive.  The 
recording  angel  is  noting  down  this  last  opportunity  of  grace 
extended  to  you.  Yonr  account  of  divine  warnings  is  about 
to  be  closed ;  your  guardian  angel  is  looking  in  your  face 
with  an  intensity  of  love  which  would  melt  your  soul,  could 
you  but  see  it.  Oh !  start  this  time  in  sincerity  towards 
Heaven. 

The  train  of  woe  passed  by,  and  mounting  his  steed,  Nicho 
las  Traver  said  seriously  to  his  companion : 
.     "  The  death  of  a  child,  in  its  innocence  and  purity,  always 
affects  me  so.    Let  us  rejoin  our  party." 

The  horses  bounded  rapidly  along  the  highway.  The 
betrayer  hurried  on  to  the  open  arms  of  society,  while  the 
betrayed  moved  slowly  on  to  the  grave  of  her  child. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

BREAKFAST  had  been  announced  a  full  half-hour  at  "The 
Glen,"  and  still  two  seats  at  the  round-table  remained  unoc 
cupied.  Two  plates  were  clean  and  glistening  in  their  porce 
lain  whiteness.  Two  gold  napkin-rings  still  retained  posses- 


264-  STORMCLIFF. 

sion  of  their  napkins.  Occasionally  an  eye  would  be  directed 
towards  the  door  opening  into  the  hall,  and  an  exclamation 
be  heard  at  the  unaccountably  long  delay  of  the  strangers 
in  making  their  appearance.  Two  new  guests  had  arrived 
late  the  night  before ;  so  Mrs.  Baltimore  had  informed  the 
assembled  breakfast  party.  An  unfortunate  break-down  of 
a  vehicle  had  detained  one  of  the  new-comers  upon  the  high 
way  till  near  the  hour  of  midnight.  The  other  arrival  was 
delayed  to  an  unseasonable  hour  by  a  collision  of  two  steam 
ers  on  the  river.  These  disasters  were  ample  apology  for 
the  non-appearance  of  the  two,  as  the  mistress  of  the  house 
remarked.  Curiosity  had  been  aroused  with  unusual  vehe 
mence  in  reference  to  one  arrival  by  the  fact  that  the  strange 
lady  had  been  styled  very  beautiful  by  one  of  the  gentlemen 
at  the  table.  Indeed  she  had  been  pronounced  "the  belle 
of  the  county."  He  refused  to  retract  one  iota  of  his  extra 
vagant  epithets  of  praise,  and  assured  his  listeners  that  they 
would  soon  coincide  with  his  estimate  of  her. 

The  other  stranger — a  gentleman  to  whose  family  Mrs. 
Baltimore  felt  under  obligations  for  attentions  extended  to 
her  in  the  city  of  New  York,  upon  her  arrival  from  Europe — 
was  a  young  man  reared  and  educated  in  the  city,  and  who 
had  never  made  himself  familiar  with  country  life.  He  was. 
expected  to  prove  a  gay  gallant,  and  be  the  personification 
of  city  elegance  and  fashion.  His  arrival  was  calculated, 
therefore,  to  produce  a  flutter  among  the  ladies  present,  and 
they  were  looking  for  his  appearance  with  as  much  interest 
and  curiosity  as  for  that  of  "  the  county  belle."  He  was 
mentioned  at  the  table  as  "  Mr.  Fred.  Cutaway ;"  and  while 
his  name  and  family  were  under  discussion  he  made  his 
appearance  at  the  hall-door,  which  was  swung  open  for  him 
by  a  servant  in  grey  livery  and  white  gloves ;  and,  advancing 
towards  Mrs.  Baltimore  with  a  mincing  step  occasioned  by 
his  unwillingness  to  dispense  heel-music  in  his  walk,  he  bow 
ed  low,  and  said  in  a  high  key : 

"  Somnus  grappled  me  so  tight,  and  proved  itself  so  supe 


STORMCLIFF.  265 

rior  to  my  delicate  organization,  that  I  found  it  extremely 
difficult  to  shake  it  off.  I  trust  you  will  excuse  me.  Ha !  ha ! 
I  would  not  convey  the  impression  that  I  am  repugnant  to 
late  hours — not  at  all.  But  if  this  disaster  to  the  steamboat 
had  occurred  a  half-hour  earlier,  I  should  probably  have 
descended  from  my  chamber  from  five  to  ten  minutes  sooner. 
I  hope  I  have  not  detained  you,  madam.  I  apologize  to  all 
of  you,  ladies;  and  I  trust  you  will  all  pardon  my  delay  when 
you  observe  how  delicately  I  feed,  and  how  brief  is  the  time 
occupied  in  my  repast." 

The  accent  of  the  young  man  was  so  peculiarly  marked  by 
a  squeak,  that  it  was  almost  impossible  to  restrain  laughter 
upon  first  hearing  it.  It  was  coupled,  moreover,  with  such 
a  singular  personal  formation  and  style  of  dress,  that  the 
ladies  glanced  at  each  other  with  eyes  which  seemed  to  say, 
"I  withdraw  my  claims  to  his  attention  ;  you  may  have  him 
entirely  to  yourself." 

Mrs.  Baltimore  assured  the  new  guest  that  every  one  at 
"The  Glen"  was  expected  to  consult  only  personal  conve 
nience  in  rising,  and  that  Mr.  Fred.  Cutaway  must  never 
allow  himself  to  be  hurried  or  incommoded  on  any  occasion 
by  considerations  of  courtesy  to  other  guests.  He  would 
always  find  servants  ready  to  serve  him  with  breakfast  at 
any  hour  before  one  o'clock:  sleep  at  "The  Glen"  was  to  be 
courted,  not  bounded  and  restricted.  He  was  then  directed 
to  a  seat  beside  Miss  Delavan.  As  he  passed  around  to  his 
place,  mincing  along  and  bowing  as  he  was  introduced  to 
the  company,  an  excellent  opportunity  was  afforded  to  notice 
his  costume  for  the  morning.  He  was  about  five  feet  and 
nine  inches  in  height,  and  slim  in  figure.  He  wore  a  suit 
of  lemon-colored  flannel.  Coat,  pants,  and  vest  were  of  the 
same  tropical  hue.  His  coat,  with  its  huge  pearl  buttons, 
resembled  him  in  name.  It  was  a  cutaway.  The  knight  of 
the  needle  and  shears  had  commenced  to  cut  away  the  front 
skirts  of  this  remarkable  lemon-coat  at  or  near  the  bottom 
of  the  vest,  and  had  continued  to  cut  away  towards  the  rear 
'  12 


266  STOKMCLIFF. 

of  Mr.  Fred.  Cutaway,  until  the  idea  of  the  coat  possessing 
a  skirt  became  purely  mythical.  About  four  inches  up  from 
the  bottom  of  this  mythical  .skirt  in  the  rear,  the  glisten  of 
two  large  pearl  buttons  was  seen.  The  pants  were  gathered 
in  tucks  around  his  waist,  and  extended  downwards  to  his 
patent-leather  boots  in  legs  which  resembled  candle-moulds. 
It  was  a  question  of  serious  study  how  he  had  succeeded  in 
thrusting  his  feet  through  the  small  ends  of  these  candle- 
mould  pants.  His  coat  was  tightly  buttoned — two  pearl  but 
tons  of  the  vest  showing  above,  and  two  below  the  coat. 
He  wore  a  lemon-colored  cravat  of  silk  and  a  standing-collar, 
manifest  only  in  a  white-starched  line  of  linen,  which  threat 
ened  to  cut  his  throat  as  a  compensation  for  holding  up  his 
chin.  His  eyes  and  hair  were  in  keeping  with  his  garments — 
both  bright  lemon-color.  The  hair  was  parted  in  the  mid 
dle,  and  cut  as  short  as  that  of  the  inmates  of  Sing- 
Sing.  His  features  were  thin  and  regular,  approaching 
nearly  to  effeminacy.  A  few  yellow  hairs  bloomed  on  each 
cheek,  and  were  pulled  out  into  the  skeleton  of  English 
whiskers. 

As  this  yellow  personage  passed  around  to  his  seat  at  the 
table,  Hugh  Winchester  whispered  to  his  companion  on  the 
left: 

"  Is  that  what  is  called  a  butterfly  of  fashion  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Miss  Rogers,  in  the  same  covert  tone  of 
voice.  "  That  is  a  yellow  caterpillar  come  to  forage.  Didn't 
you  notice  how  it  walked  ?  " 

"  Hush,  you  will  be  heard.  Don't  lajigfy"  whispered  the 
gentleman  again  ;  "  Grace  will  not  tolerate  disrespect  at  this 
table,  I  assure  you." 

"We  must  be  kind  to  all  God's  creatures,"  replied  his 
companion. 

"  I  have  just  received  an  idea.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?" 
whispered  Hugh  Winchester,  again.  "  We  must  have  Mr. 
Fred.  Cutaway  in  some  tableau.  You  recollect  we  are  to 
have  a  tableau  party  soon.  Let's  have  'The  Early  Bird 


STORMCLIFF.  267 

catches  the  Worm ; '  let  Caterpillar  be  the  worm,  you  the 
bird — hush !  here  conies  the  blonde  angel." 

Into  the  room,  like  a  gleam  of  sunlight,  glided  Marie 
Heron;  a  pnre  white  morning  wrapper,  with  no  relieving 
colors  or  ornaments  save  the  single  branch  of  red  coral  that 
clasped  her  dress  at  the  throat,  was  belted  at  her  waist  by  a 
white  ribbon.  Noiselessly  she  passed  to  the  side  of  Mrs. 
Baltimore,  the  sunbeams  dancing  upon  her  light-brown, 
curls,  and  the  rose-flush  enthroned  upon  her  fair  round 
cheeks.  Her  rich,  ripe  lips  were  moist,  as  if  they  had  been 
sipping  the  morning  dew  from  the  flowers.  Half  timidly, 
half  smilingly,  she  extended  her  hand  to  the  mistress  of  the 
house,  and  then  glanced  over  the  faces  of  the  party  at  the 
table.  Her  bosom  rose  and  fell  tremulously  under  the  thin 
folds  of  her  robe,  for  she  had  run  rapidly  down  the  stairs 
and  along  the  deserted  halls.  She  was  evidently  surprised 
at  the  number  of  the  guests.  Her  liquid  eyes  of  heavenly 
blue  half  veiled  themselves  when  unmistakable  glances  of 
admiration  greeted  her  appearance.  Gentlemen  arose  from 
their  seats  involuntarily  as  the  w^ords  of  introduction  were 
pronounced ;  and  Mr.  Nicholas  Traver  escorted  her  to  the 
vacant  seat.  She  gave  him  her  hand  in  recollection  of  their 
former  acquaintance. 

Seated  beside  Mr.  Fred.  Cutaway,  Marie  could  not  avoid 
conversation  with  him  occasionally,  as  he  turned  to  her  from 
Mary  Delavan.  But  she  soon  discovered  more  congeniality 
on  her  right,  where  the  elegant  father  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  was 
seated.  With  rare  skill  and  consideration,  that  gentleman 
diverted  the  conversation  into  channels  with  which  she  was 
familiar  ; .  and  soon  the  slight  embarrassment  of  meeting  so 
many  strangers  was  swept  away.  Her  eyes  ranged  more 
freely  over  the  guests  of  the  round  table,  and  she  soon  dis 
covered  that  Reynolds  Winchester's  eyes  travelled  more  fre 
quently  in  her  direction  than  any  other.  That  gentleman 
found  some  difficulty  in  attracting  her  attention  when  he 
wished  to  address  her,  in  consequence  of  the  brilliant  talker 


268  STORMCLIFF. 

on  her  right.  Finally,  in  a  lull  of  the  conversation,  and  Avlien 
Mr.  Traver  was  occupied  in  sending  her  cup  after  more  coffee, 
Reynolds  Winchester  caught  her  eye  and  said  : 

"  We  are  divided  from  each  other,  Miss  Heron,  by  the 
breadth  of  a  town;  and  if  that  church-spire  was  two  inches  fur 
ther  south,  I  should  be  entirely  shut  out  from  the  view,  even  of 
your  face.  Looking  at  the  silver  town  reminds  me  of  you." 

"  That  is  a  rare  compliment,  Mr.  Winchester,"  was  her 
reply. 

"How  so?" 

"  Because  a  glimpse  of  that  silver  memorial  should  natu 
rally  recall  the  heroes  and  the  heroine.  In  allowing  your 
thoughts  to  roam  towards  me,  you  violate  good  taste.  The 
memorial  recalls  greatness  !  To  you  it  suggests  littleness — 
that  is  me.  It  proves  bad  taste  in  you,  and  still  pays  me  a 
high  compliment." 

"  No,"  said  he,  laughing ;  "  that  will  not  do.  Thinking 
of  the  heroes  naturally  and  properly  recalls  you.  I  do  not 
violate  good  taste,  as  you  shall  see.  In  admiring  the  heroism 
of  those  four  men,  I  must  think  of  you.  Did  not  their  valor 
save  you  ?  I  have  heard  so,  at  least.  Thus  valor  saved 
beauty.  I  admire  the  valor,  and  it  suggests  at  once  the  beauty 
which  was  saved.  But  tell  me,  did  those  men  really  save 
you  ?  " 

"  They  did  not ;  they  saved  my  father.  I  was  already  on 
the  street  when  they  appeared." 

"And  one  perished  in  the  flames  ;  was  that  the  fact  ?"  he 
inquired. 

"  Yes  !  one  noble  fellow  forfeited  his  life." 

"And  have  you  no  idea  who  any  of  them  were?" 

"  It  is  said  that  the  chief  of  the  fire  department  is  missing. 
It  appears  to  be  almost  a  certainty  that  he  is  the  man  lost." 

This  reply  was  an  evasion  of  the  question.  She  really 
knew  one  other  of  the  four  heroes,  but  his  name  was  likely 
to  tremble  on  her  lips,  and  she  would  not  pronounce  it.  It 
was  a  name  for  her  that  must  remain  unuttered.  Its  pro- 


STOKMCLIFF.  209 

nunciation  threatened  her  composure.  She  would  not  at 
tempt  it.  She  noticed  that  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  were 
intently  regarding  her  as  she  answered  Mr.  Winchester's 
inquiry.  The  mistress  of  the  house  followed  up  her  uncle's 
question. 

"  Could  you  identify  the  faces  of  the  men  if  you  were  to 
see  them  again,  Miss  Heron  ?" 

"Their  faces  were  like  masks,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  perfectly 
blackened  with  cinders,  and  their  hair  much  burnt." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  recognise  their  voices,  if  you 
heard  them  again  ?"  was  the  startling  question. 

"Very  likely  I  might,"  said  Marie,  hoping  this  branch  of 
interrogation  would  be  pursued  no  further. 

"  Did  you  hear  them  all  talk  ?"  was  the  interrogatory  from 
another  part  of  the  table. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  I  heard  every  voice." 

""Were  they  gentlemen,  Miss  Heron?"  squeaked  in  the 
high  key-notes  of  Mr.  Fred.  Cutaway. 

"  Not  if  clothes  are  the  standard,"  was  the  sharp  response 
to  this  ill-timed  inquiry. 

"  I  could  imagine  of  nothing  more  disagreeable  than  to  be 
handled  by  low  men,  and  tossed  about  by  them  at  such  a 
time  of  nervous  excitement,"  put  in  again  the  squeak  of  the 
gentleman  in  lemon. 

"  I  fancy  you  would  find  the  burning  up  into  a  crisp  much 
more  disagreeable,"  was  the  rejoinder,  as  Marie  turned  in 
amazement  to  her  left-hand  companion. 

"  I  beg  leave  to  differ,  Miss  Heron,"  persisted  the  squeaking 
voice.  "  I  think  the  vulgar  touch  of  plebeian  hands  would 
occasion  such  a  shock  to  my  nervous  system  that  I  should 
never  regain  my  vitality.  Perhaps  my  sensibilities  are  ex 
cessive,  but  really  it  would  destroy  all  future  enjoyment  to 
be  touched.  Oh!  mercy,  just  imagine  it — touched!" 

Everybody  laughed,  but  Hugh  Winchester  said  : 

"There's  a  way  always  open  to  you,  Mr.  Cutaway,  to 
escape  such  handling." 


270  STOKMCL1FF. 

"  I  know  it,  Mr.  Winchester  ;  I'd  frown  them  down  ;  they 
never  would  withstand  a  gentleman's  withering  frown." 

"  That  isn't  my  remedy  for  you,  Mr.  Cutaway." 

"  Ah  !  Mr.  Winchester  ;  what  is  it  you  would  say  ?  A  rem 
edy  ?  I  shall  listen  to  you  with  pleasure." 

The  answer  given  to  the  gentleman  in  lemon  brought 
down  the  house. 

"  Always  wear  a  label  :  '  Sensitive  Plant  —  not  to  be  touch 
ed  in  time  of  fire.'  " 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
servant  with  the  letters  by  mail.  Every  one  seemed  anxious 
as  the  mistress  of  "The  Glen"  received  the  basket,  and 
proceeded  to  read  the  address  upon  the  letters.  After  she 
had  distributed  the  letters  to  the  fortunate  ones,  and  they 
had  broken  the  seals  and  were  eagerly  reading,  Miss  Angier, 
who  had  shaken  out  the  folds  of  the  morning  newspaper,  and 
hastily  run  her  eyes  over  the  headings  of  news,  electrified 
every  one  by  exclaiming  : 

"  Terrible  news  for  some  one.  I  beg  pardon  for  the  inter 
ruption  of  you  who  are  blessed  with  letters  ;  but  here  is 
something  in  which  some  of  you  may  be  deeply  interested. 
If  you  will  permit  me,  I  will  read  it  for  you." 

Of  course  there  was  no  objection  to  such  a  startling  ap 
peal.  She  was  requested  to  read  aloud,  and  returning  her 
eye  to  the  heading,  she  proceeded  to  enlighten  her  hearers 
thus: 

"'HEAVY  ROBBERY! 

"  '  Daring  and  successful  attempt  to  plunder  the  National 
Bank  ! 

"  '  $80,000  in  funds  and  securities  removed  —  A  part  of  the 
money  recovered  ;  the  balance  carried  off  by  an  accomplice. 
One  of  the  robbers  arrested  with  a  part  of  the  stolen  money 
on  his  person. 


'Clarence  Rutherford  identified  as  one  of  the  thieves 


STOKMCLLFF.  271 

who  entered  the  National  Bank.  The  stolen  money  found 
on  his  person.  Intense  indignation  on  the  part  of  his  friends. 
They  declare  him  to  be  the  victim  of  a  political  conspiracy. 
His  arrest  and  commitment. 

" '  At  a  late  hour  last  night,  somewhere  between  the  hours 
of  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock,  the  man  employed  as  night- 
watch  by  the  National  Bank  was  overpowered  by  two  men 
and  gagged,  and,  after  being  tied  hand  and  foot,  was  laid  in 
the  inclosure  on  the  south  side  of  the  bank,  while  the  thieves 
effected  an  entrance  into  the  bank  through  a  window  on  that 
side.  After  prying  open  the  iron  shutters,  they  cut  through, 
the  sash,  and  secured  admittance  to  the  President's  room* 
From  this  point  they  succeeded  by  means  of  secret  keys  in 
entering  the  vaults,  opened  the  iron  safes,  and  rifled  them  of 
their  contents,  removing  in  bills,  gold,  and  securities,  about 
$80,000. 

"'They  had  barely  time  to  secure  their  plunder  and  be 
off,  for  the  night-watch  succeeded  in  freeing  himself  of  the 
gag,  and  called  loudly  for  help.  The  police  arriving  upon  the 
spot,  delivered  him  from  the  ropes  by  which  he  was  bound, 
and  learning  the  direction  the  thieves  had  taken,  started  off 
in  pursuit.  They  succeeded  in  overtaking  one  of  the  rascals 
several  streets  off,  as  he  was  turning  a  corner.  He  wa 
dressed  in  a  dark-grey  coat  and  pants,  as  the  night-watch, 
had  informed  them,  and  on  his  person  were  found  several 
bundles  of  the  bank-bills.  Upon  taking  him  to  the  station- 
house  he  was  identified  as  Clarence  Rutherford,  a  young  man 
of  some  oratorical  ability,  and  who  has  a  small  legal  practice 
in  town.  On  his  person  was  found  also  a  check  on  the  bank, 
signed  by  Mrs.  Baltimore.  It  is  due  to  the  young  man  to 
state  that  he  indignantly  denied  the  charge  of  theft,  and  de 
clared  that  he  had  found  the  money  on  the  street.  There  is 
a  difference  of  opinion  regarding  his  guilt;  but  the  magis 
trate,  in  default  of  bail,  considered  it  his  duty  to  commit 
him  to  the  county  jail.  The  great  bulk,  however,  of  the 


272  STORMCLIPF. 

* 

stolen  property  has  not  been  recovered,  and  the  bank  has 
been  obliged  to  close  its  doors.  "We  do  not  recollect  ever 
to  have  seen  such  a  financial  panic  in  our  streets.  Some 
persons  assert  that  young  Rutherford  is  innocent,  and  that 
his  efforts  for  a  certain  political  party  have  been  the  occasion 
of  commencing  a  political  persecution  against  him.  We  do 
not,  however,  coincide  with  this  view.' " 

Miss  Angier  let  fall  the  paper  with  a  "  What  do  you  all 
think  of  that?" 

Before  any  of  the  guests  of  the  house  could  express  them 
selves  concerning  the  robbery,  a  tall  figure  beside  Mrs.  Bal 
timore  sprang  up  hastily  to  her  feet,  and  with  a  countenance 
livid  with  excitement  and  rage,  exclaimed : 

"It's  false ! — false  as  the  black  hearts  that  made  the  lie." 

Her  piercing  eyes  searched  every  countenance  at  the  table 
as  she  struggled  for  breath  to  speak  again.  Her  power  re 
turned  to  her. 

"  I've  nursed  that  boy  when  he  was  a  feeble  infant ;  I  knew 
him  well  when  he  was  a  gay-hearted  boy  running  about  the 
meadows  of  Judge  Holden's  estate.  I've  known  him  and 
his  character  for  twenty-eight  yoai>,  and  any  person,  man  or 
woman,  that  says  he  is  dishonest,  lies!  He  never  touched 
anybody's  money  that  he  did  not  come  by  honestly.  If  he 
says  he  found  the  money  on  the  street,  he  did  find  it.  It's 
false,  wicked,  infamous,  to  trump  up  this  charge  to  injure 
the  prospects  of  that  poor  young  man  who  is  struggling  so 
hard  against  poverty  and  misfortune." 

Old  Nora  sank  back  in  her  seat,  trembling  with  emotion. 
Her  unexpected  departure  from  her  usual  composure  startled 
every  one.  Always  quiet  and  agreeable  in  her  remarks,  aa 
she  sat  beside  the  mistress  of  "The  Glen,"  she  had  been  re 
spected  and  admired  for  her  age  and  her  appreciation  of 
whatever  commended  itself  to  the  learned  and  refined. 

Some  secret  spring  of  tenderness  had  been  touched  regard 
ing  young  Rutherford,  and  every  one  at  the  table  sympathized 


STORMCLIFF.  273 

with  her,  except  Nicholas  Traver,  and  the  young  gentleman 
in  lemon.  The  former  hated  her  because  he  was  irrevocably 
in  her  power.  His  character  rested  upon  her  silent  tongue. 
Mr.  Fred.  Cutaway  hated  her  on  principle.  He  considered 
everything  old  and  venerable  as  a  bore ;  and  with  persons 
of  his  stamp  a  bore  is  a  criminal. 

Several  persons  indulged  in  remarks  calculated  to  soothe 
the  old  nurse,  but  Marie  Heron  and  Mary  Delavan  remained 
silent  and  listening.  The  latter  looked  uneasy  and  nervous, 
making  several  abortive  efforts  to  balance  her  spoon  upon 
the  rim  of  her  coffee-cup,  and  then  turning  to  the  gentleman 
next  her,  with  apparently  interested  remarks  as  to  persons 
who  would  suffer  by  the  closing  of  the  principal  bank  of  the 
town.  Her  brother  was  also  annoyed  by  the  name  of  Judge 
Holden's  discarded  son  being  introduced.  He  knew  the 
young  man  well — too  well,  to  allow  his  sense  of  propriety  to 
remain  undisturbed  when  his  name  was  alluded  to.  He  had 
gone  along  with  the  great  wave  of  public  opinion  which  dis 
carded  the  outcast  from  society,  but  he  had  a  conscience 
like  his  sister  Mary.  It  was  a  hard  thing  to  ignore  the 
existence  of  a  friend  whirling  in  the  eddy  of  cruel  fate. 

But  Marie  Heron,  the  beautiful  girl  with  the  hidden  pas 
sion  gnawing  at  her  heart,  what  were  her  thoughts  at  this 
sudden  fall  of  her  idol  from  his  young  career  of  fame  ?  The 
upward  flight  of  the  young  eagle  had  gladdened  her  heart, 
though  that  heart  was  destined  to  exist  alone — unnoticed 
— uncared  for  by  him.  Her  pride  in  his  success  continued 
when  hope  folded  its  wings  and  lay  down  to  pine  and  die. 
He  would  be  great,  honored — worshipped  of  men,  when  her 
eyes  were  growing  dim  and  her  hands  refining  a  way  for  the 
grave.  It  would  be  so  sweet  to  know  that  his  great  heart 
and  his  clear  intellect  would  be  acknowledged  of  men — his 
worth  would  be  recognised  on  earth  when  she  was  gone  to 
the  silent  home  under  the  sods  of  the  valley.  But  this  great 
shock  almost  paralysed  her.  She  saw  nothing,  heard  no 
thing,  for  a  few  seconds  after  the  reading  of  the  dreadful 

12* 


274  6TORMCLIFF  / 

news.  Everything  appeared  to  swim  about  her.  She  grasped 
at  her  coffee  and  drank  it  at  a  draught.  Then  the  words  of 
encouragement  to  Nora,  from  the  guests  about  her,  attracted 
her  notice.  She  saw  there  were  opportunities,  means — men 
who  might  save  him.  He  was  innocent.  He  could  be  as 
sisted  to  prove  it.  Effort — sacrifice  of  comfort  in  his  behalf 
— might  save  him.  She  would  consider  it.  If  any  one  should 
help  him,  it  must  be  herself.  Why?  If  any  one  could  save 
him,  she  must  be  that  one.  Why  ?  Love  has  its  own  logic. 
Perfect  and  self-existent,  it  aims  towards  its  object.  For  it 
DO  modesty  that  can  hinder  action  exists.  Pride  melts  in 
the  grasp  of  true  love.  It  demands  no  love  in  return  as  a 
condition  of  its  existence  and  growth.  It  can  flourish  alone; 
hidden,  crushed  out  of  sight,  it  burns  into  the  heart  and 
strongly  lives.  It  is  the  only  love  worth  having — the  love 
which  heeds  not  unkindncss,  slight,  poverty,  crime ;  but 
closer  and  closer,  still  clings  to  its  idol.  Is  the  beauty  and 
sublimity  of  a  mother's  love  to  be  denied,  though  it  is  cen 
tred  in  a  son  who  wears  a  felon's  chain  ?  Never !  Has  she 
a  right  to  love  one  whom  men  loathe  or  fear?  Aye,  the 
instinct  of  men  asserts  the  truth.  Then  why  is  a  girl's  love 
to  be  scorned,  which  goes  forth  from  her  towards  any  man  ? 
Love  is  sacred.  God  planted  it  in  the  human  heart,  that  rea 
son  might  not  burn  and  destroy  utterly  by  its  iron  mandates. 
Pure  reason,  as  the  sole  principle  of  human  action,  would 
make  the  hearts  of  men  such  rocks  of  pride  and  conceit,  that 
the  gallant  ships  Sublimity,  Beauty,  and  Self-Sucrifice,  would 
dash  upon  them  and  go  down  for  ever.  Thank  God,  this  love 
of  woman  is  not  limited  to  that  only  which  is  easy,  approved 
of  by  society,  and  respectable !  She  can  love  without  re 
turn  ;  and  where  her  heart  has  been  once  centred,  there  she 
lives  and  dies.  This  is  not  that  which  often  bears  the  resem 
blance  of,  and  is  called  love.  True  love  never  dies. 

Yes,  she  loved  him.  She  yearned  to  help  him,  only  because 
she  loved  him.  No  hope  lighted  her  path,  and  in  the  dark 
ness  of  despair  she  moved  on  to  help  .him.  Perhaps  after 


STORMCLTFF.  275 

she  was  dead  and  gone,  he  would  learn  to  love  her  grave. 
Perhaps  he  would  forget  that  she  had  ever  lived.  What 
matter  ?  She  listened  eagerly  to  the  conversation  which 
sprang  up  around  her  ?  She  tried  to  catch  every  word  that 
related  to  knowledge  of  law  and  the  evidence  which  courts 
of  justice  admit.  She  knew  the  unerring  certainty  with 
which  the  instinct  of  women  sometimes  darts  to  conclusions 
of  truth.  She  had  discussed  such  questions  with  Rutherford 
himself.  Therefore  she  cared  not  for  the  shrewd  speculations 
of  the  female  talkers  about  her.  She  felt  that  her  own  sense 
as  a  woman  was  perfectly  as  accurate  and  clear  as  any  one 
present.  It  was  what  Mr.  Delavan  and  Mr.  Traver  would 
say  of  the  trial  for  robbery.  They  had  studied  the  law,  and 
knew  the  rules  of  evidence.  She  desired  to  know  something 
practical,  something  that  men  would  feel  and  say ;  for  into 
the  hands  of  men  had  Rutherford,  her  idol,  fallen.  Men 
were  to  try  and  decide  his  case,  and  she  listened  eagerly  to 
what  men  would  say.  She  noticed  that  Charles  Delavan, 
when  he  entered  into  the  discussion  at  last,  appeared  to  under 
stand  what  he  was  talking  about.  And  Mr.  Traver,  her  right- 
hand  attendant,  when  he  was  forced  at  last  into  the  conver 
sation,  explained  his  knowledge  of  law  so  clearly  that  she 
encouraged  him  to  talk,  and  soon  found  out  that  the  discovery 
of  the  money  in  Rutherford's  possession,  and  his  grey  suit, 
were  the  two  facts  against  him.  The  accused  must  be  able 
to  account  satisfactorily  how  the  stolen  money  happened  to  be 
in  his  hands,  or  some  other  person  in  a  grey  suit  must  be 
identified  in  connexion  with  the  robbery.  The  night-watch 
did  not,  it  appeared,  see  Rutherford's  countenance,  but 
only  one  man  in  a  grey  suit.  He  could  tell  nothing  about  the 
face  of  this  man. 

Presently  Mrs.  Baltimore  and  old  Nora  retired  from  the 
table  together,  and  left  the  room  in  some  secret  discussion. 
Marie  felt  that  it  must  relate  to  the  young  man  in  prison. 
She  knew  Nora  would  commence  operations  in  his  favor  at 
once.  Oh,  that  she  might  be  taken  into  their  confidence. 


276  STORMCLIFF. 

She  determined  to  watch  every  opportunity  to  secure  evi 
dence  in  Rutherford's  favor.  God  only  could  tell  what  a 
woman's  heart  might  accomplish.  With  these  reflections, 
she  left  the  dining-hall  in  company  with  Nicholas  Traver. 
He  was  the  sensible  man  and  lawyer  to  devote  herself  to  now. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

TICK,  tick,  tick.  How  mournfully  sounded  the  deserted 
clock  in  the  silent  room.  Darkness  enveloped  all  things. 
The  night  was  gloomy.  The  stars  of  heaven  were  shrouded. 
The  stars  of  Hope  had  vanished,  too.  Over  the  earth  a  pall 
of  blackness  hung.  Over  the  hearts  of  some  the  more  fearful 
veil  of  despair  was  flung.  The  young  eagle  was  chained. 
The  captive  pined  in  darkness,  and  thought  hopelessly  of  the 
morrow.  No  doubt  the  morrow  would  witness  deeper 
shame — the  unpitying  gaze  of  men,  the  staring  crowd  of  vul 
gar  intellects,  the  cruel  sentence  from  the  judge,  the  clank 
of  fetters,  and  the  dreary  journey  to  the  convict's  cell.  Of 
what  avail  had  effort  been?  How  had  the  honest  purpose 
and  the  manly  struggle  been  rewarded  ?  Weary  nights  of 
toil,  and  overworking  of  the  brain ;  the  sacrifice  of  self  by 
day,  and  the  earnest  call  on  God  by  night,  had  only  led  to 
shame.  Was  the  arm  of  God  shortened,  that  it  could  no 
longer  save  ? 

Tick,  tick,  tick.  The  faithful  clock  stood  lonely  and  for 
saken,  and  yet  its  duty,  the  everlasting  tick,  went  on.  The 
fire  had  long  ago  smouldered  and  gone  out  upon  the  hearth. 
Beside  the  ashes  stood  the  kettle,  long  neglected.  Beside 
the  table  stood  the  vacant  chair.  The  bed  was  long  unopen 
ed,  and  beneath  the  pillow  lay  the  locket,  long  ago  unclasped. 
And  would  the  faithful  monitor  thus  hold  on  for  ever,  with 
its  tick,  tick,  tick,  regardless  of  the  presence  or  absence  of 


STOEHCL1FF.  277 

its  owner  ?  No  !  In  the  dark  and  silent  night,  and  unat 
tended  by  the  hand  of  man,  the  old  clock  sounded  its  last 
alarm.  The  cathedral  chime  struck  twelve,  and  all  was  still. 

The  captive's  sole  companion  in  his  earnest  struggles  for 
fame  had  ceased  to  sound  the  tick,  tick,  tick,  and  Time  was 
marked  no  more.  Perchance  the  evil  ones  who  roam  the 
earth  on  spirit-wings  came  in  and  jeered  at  God  and  Virtue. 

In  a  distant  street  of  the  same  town  stood  a  building  of 
stone.  Its  exterior  was  gloomy,  and  its  interior  more  gloomy 
still.  Children  were  wont,  as  the  shades  of  evening  fell,  to 
look  up  with  awe  and  wonder  to  its  grated  windows,  and  the 
strange  faces  which  looked  forth  between  the  bars.  Some 
times  an  arm  could  be  seen  hanging  partly  exposed  to  view 
as  a  prisoner  thrust  it  through  the  bars,  and  listlessly 
looked  forth  upon  the  setting  sun.  Murderers  were  known 
to  be  confined  there  and  all  the  hideous  brood  of  mortality 
that  live  upon  the  plunder  and  the  ruin  of  their  fellow-men. 
And  when  the  merry  children  passed  the  place  a  chill  fell 
over  their  hearts,  and  they  would  lower  their  voices  as  they 
spoke  of  the  dreadful  men,  and  women  even,  who  passed 
their  days  and  nights  within  those  dismal  walls,  and  all  un- 
cheered,  unblessed  by  the  presence  of  their  kindred. 

A  flight  of  stone  steps  under  the  front  entrance  of  the 
prison  led  to  an  area  below.  From  this  area,  a  door  of  oak, 
heavily  bound  by  wrought-iron  plates,  opened  into  the  base 
ment  of  the  building.  This  door  was  secured  on  the  outside 
by  two  immense  bolts,  in  addition  to  the  iron  key  which  the 
jailor  carried  about  with  him.  The  basement  was  divided 
by  stone  partitions  into  a  hall  with  cells  on  either  side. 
These  apartments  were  designed  for  the  safe  keeping  of 
criminals  who  were  possessed  of  extraordinary  strength,  and 
the  windows  were  fortified  by  grates  of  double  bars.  The 
doors  were  all  of  wrought  iron.  Without  the  aid  of  files,  it 
seemed  impossible  for  prisoners  to  escape,  unless  they  could 
succeed  in  surprising  and  throttling  the  jailor  when  he  came 
to  bring  them  food,  or  to  inspect  the  condition  of  their  cells. 


278  STORMCLIFF. 

On  each  side  of  the  building  where  the  windows  of  these 
cells  looked  out,  a  huge  mastiff  was  chained  by  a  long  chain, 
and  taught  to  prowl  back  and  forth,  and  give  the  alarm  if 
any  one  approached  or  attempted  to  leave  the  windows  of 
the  basement.  The  cells  were  well  calculated  to  prevent  the 
escape  of  prisoners  of  ordinary  skill  and  cunning.  There  is 
a  class  of  desperadoes  whose  skill  and  patience  are  equiva 
lent  to  genius.  For  these  men  the  basement  might  have 
been  insecure.  But  for  ordinary  purposes  of  a  county  jail, 
it  was  regarded  as  unusually  strong. 

In  one  of  these  cells  the  unfortunate  Rutherford  was  con 
fined,  and  for  some  unaccountable  reason  was  chained  also. 
Party  spirit  outside  claimed  that  this  unusual  severity  was 
occasioned  by  political  hate.  The  young  lawyer  had  become 
a  power  in  the  canvass.  In  the  midst  of  a  career  in  oratory 
which  threatened  to  annihilate  the  forces  of  the  opposition, 
this  arrest  had  fallen  upon  him  like  a  shock  of  lightning. 
He  was  walking  towards  his  little  home  at  night,  when  a 
man  passed  him  upon  a  full  run,  as  if  eager  to  reach  a  phy 
sician's  office.  He  supposed  this  to  be  the  fact  until  he  had 
walked  half  a  block  further.  Then  he  was  surprised  by  the 
discovery  of  a  bundle  of  papers  lying  upon  the  sidewalk  in 
the  light  of  a  street  lamp.  Stooping  to  examine  the  papers, 
he  discovered  that  they  were  bank-bills  of  large  denomina 
tions.  The  thought  then  flashed  to  his  mind  that  the  man 
on  the  run  must  have  dropped  them.  He  took  up  the  bun 
dle  and  went  on  his  way,  studying  in  his  mind  the  best 
method  of  advertising  the  finding  of  the  money,  that  the 
owner  might  come  forward  and  claim  it.  In  a  few  seconds 
sifter  taking  possession  of  the  bills  he  was  suddenly  pounced 
upon  by  two  of  the  town  police,  who  came  in  upon  him 
from  the  darkness  of  a  side  street.  He  did  not  know  them, 
and  indignantly  denied  their  charge  of  robbery,  and  stated 
the  facts  as  they  had  occurred.  They  replied  roughly  to  this 
denial,  and  carried  their  prisoner  with  the  money  before  a 
magistrate,  who  finally  committed  him  to  prison.  Being  a 


STORMCLIFF.  279 

political  partisan  of  a  bitter  stamp  he  refused  to  take  bail 
for  the  prisoner's  appearance,  and  no  subsequent  efforts  of 
Mrs.  Baltimore  or  Rutherford's  friends  could  shake  this  pur 
pose  of  holding  the  suspected  burglar  securely  for  trial. 

The  young  lawyer  found  no  difficulty  in  securing  counsel 
to  defend  him.  Three  of  the  ablest  men  in  his  profession 
volunteered  their  services  at  once.  His  friends  insisted  upon 
his  employing  them  all,  as  the  matter  was  rapidly  assuming  a 
political  complexion.  There  were  very  grave  apprehensions 
that  he  would  not  be  allowed  justice.  The  dominant  party 
might  succeed  in  packing  a  jury  for  the  trial ;  and  in  that 
event  nothing  could  save  him,  as  the  Governor  of  the  State 
was  also  a  bitter  partizan  of  the  opposition.  Under  these 
unfortunate  circumstances  Rutherford  found  himself  pressed 
down  on  the  gloomy  night  preceding  the  day  of  his  trial. 
A  crowd  of  friends  had  visited  him  in  his  cell  from  time  to 
time.  In  one  party  came  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron  and  his 
daughter,  Old  Nora,  and  the  mistress  of  "  The  Glen."  Every 
encouraging  word  of  cheer  and  sympathy  was  offered  to  him. 
Every  comfort  was  furnished  to  him ;  and  he  received  the 
assurance  that  half  at  least  of  the  community  regarded  him 
as  innocent  and  a  martyr  to  political  prejudice.  His  friends 
in  the  canvass  gathered  to  him,  and  assured  him  that  if  he 
was  condemned  there  was  a  strong  disposition  on  the  part  of 
the  people  to  attack  the  prison  and  raze  it  to  the  ground, 
and  carry  him  out  of  harm's  way.  Rutherford,  in  reply  to 
this  intelligence  of  contemplated  violence,  stated  emphati 
cally  that  he  would  not  acquiesce  in  violations  of  law  and 
order,  and  that  such  violence  would  be  immediately  followed 
by  his  delivery  of  himself  into  the  hands  of  the  officers  of  the 
law.  The  more  discreet  of  his  political  friends  took  care  that 
this  remark  of  the  prisoner  should  be  widely  circulated,  and 
its  good  influence  upon  the  community  was  at  once  manifest. 
A  man  must  be  innocent  that  desires  only  a  fair  trial,  and 
will  have  freedom  on  no  other  conditions. 

But  notwithstanding  all   the   sympathy  he  received,  the 


280  STORMCLIFF. 

facts  were  dreadfully  against  him.  His  own  statement  to 
the  officers  who  made  the  arrest  could  be  of  no  avail. 
The  bank  had  been  robbed,  and  half  of  the  community 
had  suffered  by  the  closing  of  its  doors.  He  was  poor, 
reputed  to  be  a  bastard,  wore  a  grey  suit  of  clothes 
which  had  been  seen  by  the  night-watch,  and  was  arrested 
with  the  money  or  a  part  of  it  in  his  possession,  and  was 
moving  away  from  the  bank  in  the  very  direction  that 
the  night-watch  stated  one  of  the  robbers  had  gone.  In 
his  favor  was  only  the  fact  that  he  had  been  reputed  honest 
all  his  life — a  weak  barrier  to  hold  back  suspicion  when 
the  community  are  aroused  and  passionate  in  the  midst 
of  a  great  political  struggle  for  power. 

The  venerable  clergyman,  whose  son  Rutherford  had 
defended  successfully  in  the  trial  for  the  murder  of  Walter 
Traver,  was  devoted  and  diligent  in  his  efforts  to  aid  the 
prisoner.  He  visited  him  and  induced  members  of  his  church 
to  go  with  him  to  the  prison.  He  did  everything  that  an 
honest  and  grateful  heart  could  do,  and  after  all  went 
away  to  his  home  on  the  evening  preceding  the  trial  in  very 
great  depression  of  spirits,  knowing  too  well  the  vindictive 
and  stern  prejudices  of  the  party  to  which  he  himself 
belonged.  He  felt  assured  that  if  the  jury  should  by  any 
chance  or  connivance  of  the  officers  of  the  law  all  prove 
to  be  political  partisans  of  strong  prejudices,  the  acquittal 
of  the  accused  was  beyond  the  bounds  of  probability. 
The  removal  of  Rutherford  from  the  scene  of  the  canvass 
would  be  very  like  sounding  the  death-knell  of  the  political 
organization  to  which  he  belonged,  and  which  had  rallied 
to  him  as  their  chief  support  in  the  campaign. 

The  three  gentlemen  who  were  to  act  as  his  counsel  in  the 
approaching  trial  visited  him  just  before  nightfall ;  and  after 
promising  to  exert  themselves  for  his  acquittal  as  never 
men  had  exerted  themselves  befoi-e,  they  proceeded  to  ex 
press  to  him  candidly  their  apprehensions  that  the  opposition 
party  would  succeed,  through  the  officers  of  the  law,  in 


STORMCLIFF.  281 

securing  a  list  of  jui-ymen  who  would  act  in  the  interest  of 
prejudice  rather  than  the  interest  of  justice.  They  advised 
him  to  be  prepared  for  every  emergency,  and  to  conduct 
himself  boldly  and  manfully  even  in  the  event  of  a  convic 
tion,  trusting  to  after-events  that  should  be  arranged  to 
secure  his  pardon.  With  this  candid  statement  of  their 
opinions,  they  cordially  bade  him  adieu  for  the  night,  and  he 
was  left  to  the  solitary  reflections  of  his  lonely  cell. 

He  sat  for  a  long  time  on  the  little  bench  which  had  been 
left  him  for  a  seat,  with  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  It 
seemed  as  if  his  throbbing  heart  would  break  with  chagrin 
and  shame.  Once  soaring  so  high  in  ambition  and  heroic 
purpose,  securing  the  respect  of  men,  and  crowned  with 
wreaths  of  hope  for  a  bright  future ;  and  now  cast  into  a 
felon's  cell,  chained,  and  of  many  men  regarded  as  a  crimi 
nal — a  monster  of  humanity,  whose  freedom  was  dangerous 
to  the  peace  and  happiness  of  society.  It  seemed  as  if  fate, 
for  him,  had  no  alleviating  cup  of  joy.  An  outcast  from  the 
home  of  his  childhood,  without  a  relative,  without  a  name 
which  could  connect  him  with  an  honorable  ancestry,  with 
every  prospect  of  success  torn  from  him,  and  the  convict's 
toilsome  life  before  him,  why  should  he  live  ?  Why  had  he 
failed  to  leap,  as  he  had  purposed,  from  the  dizzy  height  of 
Stormcliff?  Why  need  he  longer  bear  the  cross  of  effort 
and  humiliation  before  men  ?  Why  not  dash  his  brains  out 
with  the  fetters  which  clung  about  his  wrists  ?  With  his 
immense  power  of  muscle  that  death  would  easily  be 
attained.  A  few  vigorous  blows  upon  his  head,  and  all 
would  be  over.  He  shuddered  at  the  temptation  ;  not  that 
he  feared  death,  but  that  he  feared  God,  to  whom  he  had 
solemnly  vowed  never  to  dwell  upon  the  temptation  of  rid 
ding  himself  of  life  when  troubles  came  upon  him.  He  shook 
off  the  dreadful  thought,  and  rising  to  his  feet  in  the  dark 
ness,  said,  resolutely :  "  But  I  am  to  succeed  ;  the  spirit  of 
the  highlands  has  said  it."  Then  recalling  words  of  his 
Creator,  which  Nora  had  read  to  him  that  day  in  the  prison, 


282  *  STORMCLIFF. 

he  kneeled  down  by  his  little  bench  and  reverently  repeated 
them  aloud,  with  his  eyes  raised  to  Heaven,  in  the  impene 
trable  gloom  of  his  cell :  "  For  the  Lord  will  plead  their 
cause,  and  spoil  the  soul  of  those  that  spoiled  them." 

All  night  long  did  the  watchful  inmate  of  the  cell  medi 
tate  upon  these  words  of  Divine  promise,  and  kneeling  oft, 
offered  his  supplication  to  the  throne  where  the  upright  and 
the  honest  can  never  pray  in  vain. 

****** 

Morning,  bright  and  beautiful,  burst  upon  the  darkness. 
The  rays  of  its  sceptre  glanced  over  the  houses  of  the  town, 
glistened  on  the  church-spire  ornaments  of  brass,  poured  in 
through  the  windows  of  the  prison,  and  fluttered  even  on  the 
ceiling  of  the  prisoner's  cell.  The  day  of  horror  for  him  had 
come ;  but  oh,  how  mockingly  beautiful !  He  sat  for  a  long 
time  on  his  bench  watching  the  effects  of  daylight  on  his 
prison-walls.  Higher  and  higher  climbed  the  sun  on  the 
ladder  of  morning,  brighter  grew  the  day,  and  louder  sound 
ed  the  wheels  of  business  on  the  streets  of  the  aroused  town. 
He  counted  the  strokes  of  the  town-clock  as  they  told  of  the 
approaching  hour  of  his  trial — the  hour  when  he  must  face 
the  cruel  glances  of  men,  and  be  the  shameful  centre  of  pity 
or  reproach.  lie  face  the  suspicious  countenances  of  men ; 
he  who  had  never  known  of  crime  but  to  condemn  and  shun 
it ;  he  who  had  looked  ever  into  the  blue  sky  with  honest 
eyes,  and  loved  the  stars,  the  pure  stars,  with  an  upright 
heart.  It  was  hard  that  he  should  be  called  upon  to  march 
a  prisoner  through  the  halls  of  that  stone-building,  and  then 
along  the  corridor  which  would  usher  him.  into  the  crowded 
court-room  to  be  stared  at  as  a  criminal. 

At  last  the  jailor  appeared.  The  key  turned  in  the  iron 
door  and  it  swung  back — the  stern,  powerful  keeper  stalking 
in  gloomily,  and  placing  the  simple  meal  upon  the  brick 
floor.  Silent,  and  with  the  cold  air  of  one  who  feels  that  he 
is  dealing  with  the  villanous  and  the  dangerous,  the  jailor 
examined  the  cell  and  the  prisoner  with  suspicious  looks. 


STOEMCLIFF.  *  283 

His  scrutiny  of  the  young  man  appeared  to  surprise  him,  for 
he  said  bluntly : 

"You  look  mighty  calm  and  collected  for  one  who  will 
surely  sleep  in  Sing-Sing  prison  before  you  are  two  days 
older.  Is  it  possible  that  you  are  an  old  offender?  You  don't 
look  like  the  birds  I've  been  used  to  keep  under  this  key  of 
mine.  You've  looked  down-hearted  like  all  the  time  till  this 
morning.  Now  you  look  bright  and  cheerful.  ,  There's  no 
hope  for  you,  young  man,  I  can  tell  you." 

The  prisoner  arose  like  a  young  prince  to  his  feet.  His 
large  grey  eye  was  as  calm  and  beautiful  as  the  open  eyo 
of  the  eagle.  He  raised  one  hand  with  the  clanking  chain 
clinging  to  the  wrist,  and  pointing  upwards  in  majesty,  burst 
forth : 

"The  hills  of  the  highlands  shall  crumble  and  fall;  the 
cliifs  where  my  feet  have  climbed  to  watch  the  sunset,  shall 
•je  ground  in  time  to  powder;  but  the  great  God  of  justice 
shall  live  and  His  word  shall  endure  for  ever.  All  night, 
jailor,  I  have  knelt  low  there  on  the  brick  floor  to  a  Father 
who  loves  His  children,  and  whose  word  is  the  glance. of  des 
tiny.  I  believe  in  Him,  I  trust  in  Him  alone.  Darkness  has 
gathered  thick  about  me.  A  pall  hangs  over  my  existence  ; 
but  as  surely  as  the  God  of  Heaven  answers  prayer,  so  surely 
will  that  pall  roll  up  like  a  scroll  and  vanish,  and  I  shall 
walk  forth  free  among  the  sons  of  men.  I  have  knelt  low 
there.  To-morrow  I  shall  be  up  there.  Do  you  know  the 
height  of  Stormcliff?  Do  you  know  where  it  hangs  over  the 
habitations  of  men,  like  the  threat  of  Omnipotence  ?  Thero 
Avill  I  stand  and  bless  the  name  of  the  Adorable  before  to 
morrow's  sun  shall  sink  in  the  west.  It  is  here — here  deep 
in  ray  heart,  the  blessed  word  of  my  God.  He  has  heard  my 
prayer ;  and  before  to-morrow's  sun  shall  set,  StormclifF  shall 
be  my  footstool." 

He  stood  like  a  young  prophet  of  faith,  his  manacled  arm 
pointing  upwards  and  away  towards  the  cliffs  of  the  river 
where  he  had  struggled  upwards  to  seek  death,  and  where 


284  STORMCLIFF. 

Nora  had  saved  him.  A  strange  light  burned  in  his  eye,  and 
the  jailor  feared  he  was  going  mad.  The  keeper  expressed 
words  of  sympathy  for  him,  and  trusted  he  would  prove  to 
be  innocent. 

"  Innocent !"  burst  from  his  lips.  "  Aye  !  I  am  innocent ; 
and  if  God's  promises  shall  stand,  I  will  climb  before  to-mor 
row's  sunset  to  the  top  of  Storm  cliff.  Do  you  believe  me, 
jailer  ?" 

"  No,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  do  not ;  for  mortal  man  never 
trod  that  summit,  and  you  know  it." 

"I  shall  be  there,"  was  the  firm  response.  "Will  you 
stand  upon  the  cupola  of  this  prison  just  before  sunset  to 
morrow  and  watch  the  cliff?  I  will  wave  from  its  top  a 
white  banner,  and  with  a  good  glass  you  will  see  it.  I 
speak  from  faith  in  God." 

"  If  you  are  free  at  that  hour,  I  will  look  for  your  banner," 
replied  the  jailor,  the  conviction  strengthening  upon  him 
that  his  prisoner  was  indeed  losing  his  intellect. 

"  You  will  see  it  then  floating  against  the  blue  sky,"  was 
the  calm  response,  as  the  young  man  sat  down  and  proudly 
smiled.  He  felt  strong  and  sustained  by  faith  in  God,  and 
the  jailor  left  him  with  an  ominous  shake  of  the  head,  and 
the  idea  that  his  charge  would  soon  be  in  a  strait-jacket. 

When  the  iron  door  was  closed  and  locked  upon  him, 
Rutherford  cheerfully  and  eagerly  devoured  his  morning 
meal.  He  had  slept  none  the  previous  night ;  but  in  answer 
to  his  earnest  prayers,  strength  had  come  to  him  from  above. 
The  consciousness  of  his  innocence,  the  favor  of  God,  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  his  glorious  destiny  as  a  herald  of  Right,  made 
his  spirits  buoyant,  and  he  waited  impatiently  for  the  scenes 
of^the  court-room  and  the  crowd. 

Higher  and  higher  and  higher  climbed  the  sun,  but  no 
jailor  appeared  to  summon  him  to  trial — no  key  grated  in 
the  lock — no  footsteps  sounded  in  the  basement  hall.  Surely 
the  appointed  hour  for  the  assembling  of  the  court  could  not 
be  far  away.  He  could  hear  the  tramp  of  men  ascending 


STORMCLIFF.  285 

the  wooden  steps  of  the  court-house,  and  distinctly  the  mur 
mur  of  voices  sounded  in  the  prison  yard.  Approaching  the 
window,  he  could  see  a  great  assemblage  of  people  in  the 
distance,  apparently  in  a  line  with  the  front  entrance  of  the 
temple  of  justice.  But  this  crowd  appeared  to  remain  sta 
tionary,  and  seemed  to  make  no  headway  towards  the 
court-room.  Could  it  be  possible  the  halls  of  justice  were 
full,  and  this  was  only  the  mass  of  outsiders  unable  to  gain 
admittance  ? 

Higher  and  higher  still  ascended  the  sun,  but  no  summons 
came  for  him.  He  grew  impatient.  He  yearned  for  a  trial. 
Would  the  opportunity  of  vindicating  himself  before  men  be 
denied  him  after  all  his  suffering  and  confinement  ?  Why 
this  long  delay  ?  The  hour  for  his  trial  had  passed  by.  He 
knew  it,  for  the  clock  of  the  town  had  slowly  counted  to  him 
the  fact.  Another  half-hour  passed  by,  and  still  no  jailor  ap 
peared.  He  walked  again  towards  his  window  to  look  out 
upon  the  distant  crowd.  Something  was  surely  agitating 
them,  for  the  murmur  of  their  voices  grew  louder,  and  they 
appeared  to  be  divided  asunder  by  some  procession  passing 
through  them.  The  dividing  party,  whatever  it  might  be, 
came  from  the  direction  of  the  court-house  door,  and  was 
moving  off.  A  part  of  the  crowd  followed  it.  It  seemed  to 
pass  away  in  the  distance.  But  a  large  concourse  of  people 
remained,^ and  he  could  see  that  they  were  becoming  much 
excited.  Their  voices  sounded  louder,  and  they  swayed 
back  and  forth,  and  eagerly  looked  up  towards  the  court 
house.  Some  of  them  climbed  to  the  top  of  gate-posts  for  a 
better  view.  The  excitement  evidently  waxed  greater,  for 
he  could  see  that  many  were  climbing  to  the  tops  of  sheds, 
and  the  roofs  of  houses  even  were  becoming  black  with  peo 
ple.  At  last  the  cries  of  the  aroused  populace  broke  forth. 
He  could  not  distinguish  the  words  of  their  call.  The  roar 
of  voices  waxed  louder.  Ah !  he  heard  that  fearful  cry : 
"  Bring  him  out !  bring  him  out !"  He  understood  whom 
they  called  for,  and  he  withdrew  from  the  window  to  be 


i 


286  STORMCLIFF. 

ready.  Folding  his  manacled  arms,  he  stood  silently,  anx 
iously  looking  towards  the  door  of  his  cell.  The  jailor  was 
coming.  The  grating  of  the  key  in  the  oaken  door  of  the 
basement  was  heard.  Then  the  tramp  of  many  hurrying  feet 
broke  into  the  echoing  hall  of  the  prison,  and  the  confused 
sound  of  voices.  Many  voices  were  at  the  door  of  his  cell. 
The  key  grated  in  the  iron  door,  and  the  door  was  flung 
open.  A  shudder  passed  over  the  prisoner.  He  must  face  a 
crowd  in  the  court-room  who  suspected  him  of  crime.  He 
looked  up  at  the  open  door.  A  dozen  faces  were  regarding 
him,  and  each  one  radiant  with  joy. 

"  Huzza !  Rutherford,  you  are  free !"  burst  forth  from 
the  Rev.  Charles  Heron,  as  he  darted  in  and  grasped  him 
first  by  the  hand.  A  dozen  hands  grasped  him  on  every 
side,  and  another  voice  shouted,  half  wild  with  joy  :  "  Here, 
jailor,  strike  off  these  fetters.  He's  going  into  the  keeping 
of  the  people  now  ;  hurry  up." 

A  prolonged  cheer  resounded  from  the  outside,  followed 
instantly  by  the  deafening  report  of  a  cannon  from  the  pub 
lic  square  near  at  hand. 

"  Come  on,  Rutherford,"  exclaimed  the  voice  of  a  politi 
cal  friend,  as  the  fetters  fell  to  the  floor.  "  The  people  are 
waiting  for  you  on  the  square ;  the  platform  is  built,  and 
they  expect  you  to  speak.  You  remember,  this  is  the  day 
you  promised  to  speak  in  this  town."  •* 

The  boom  of  the  cannon  again  shook  the  prison,  and  the 
cheers  of  the  populace  thundered  again  from  the  square. 
The  crowd  about  the  court-house  took  up  the  cry,  and  when 
the  liberators  appeared  ascending  the  steps  from  the  area 
to  the  yard  of  the  court-house,  bearing  the  bewildered 
Rutherford  on  their  shoulders,  the  people  rushed  about 
him  with  frantic  cries  of  joy,  and  "  Down  with  the  oppo 
sition —  the  child  of  the  people  is  free  once  more!"  rang 
wildly  out. 

The  bank  robber  in  iron-grey  had  delivered  himself  up  to 
the  court,  and  the  young  orator  of  the  highlands  was  free. 


STORMCLIFF.  287 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

As  Nora  glanced  towards  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage,  she 
noticed  that  Mrs.  Baltimore  was  utterly  absorbed  in  listen 
ing.  Her  eyes  were  eagerly  bent  upon  the  speaker.  Never 
before  had  the  young  widow  appeared  so  perfectly  oblivious 
to  what  was  passing  about  her.  Then  she  turned  towards 
the  Englishman  on  the  seat  beside  her.  Sir  Francis  Cleve 
land  appeared  to  be  equally  interested  hi  the  utterances  of  the 
young  orator.  Even  Fred.  Cutaway,  on  the  same  seat  with 
Mrs.  Baltimore,  looked  as  if  the  country  was  not  so  utterly 
"  wooden  "  as  he  had  imagined.  Rutherford  held  even  the 
"  Caterpillar  "  spell-bound  with  his  eloquence.  There  was 
something  down  deep  in  the  essence  of  this  conceited  and 
shallow  butterfly  from  the  metropolis  that  could  be  stirred  by 
the  storm  of  sublimity  and  beauty  which  held  so  many  thou 
sands  motionless  in  wonder  and  admiration.  Oh !  it  was  a 
glorious  day  for  this  new  meteor  of  eloquence  which  had  burst 
upon  the  world.  Just  free  of  the  fetters  of  his  dungeon, 
he  answered  the  call  of  the  people,  and  with  the  prestige  of  a 
political  martyr  who  had  suffered  unnecessary  rigor  at  the 
hands  of  the  officers  of  the  law,  he  mounted  to  the  rostrum, 
and  his  whole  soul  burst  forth  in  the  cause  he  deemed  right. 
Stormcliff  had  been  his  hall  of  practice.  Alone,  on  the  lofty 
crag  accessible  only  to  himself  and  Nora,  he  had  practised 
oratory  with  the  stars  of  heaven  for  his  audience,  and  the 
,,  voice  of  God  for  his  prompter.  He  that  strives  to  live  near 
God  will  always  be  great.  He  that  courts  the  Centre  of 
Greatness  must  absorb  some  of  its  sparkles  of  fire  and  of 
power.  Truth  is  more  sublime  than  falsehood — rose-hued 
and  crowned  though  it  be — and  power  and  inspiration  to 
give  it  a  hearing  are  gathered  high  among  the  eternal  hills, 
where  the  soul  communes  more  closely  with  its  Creator. 
Corruption — the  sale  of  offices  created  solely  for  the  benefit 
of  the  people  and  the  sacrifice  of  the  public  good  for  party 


288  STORMCLIFF. 

purposes  and  the  interests  of  individuals — were  the  towers 
which  the  orator  assailed ;  and  as  he  thundered  at  them,  they 
trembled  and  fell.  He  swept  the  hearts  and  the  brains  of 
the  people  with  him,  and  the  cause  he  had  espoused  then  and 
there  was  won.  He  descended  from  the  platform  amid  such 
shouts  of  praise  and  such  glistening  of  eyes  as  had  never 
attested  the  truth  of  any  cause.  The  crowd  hurried  him  off, 
threatening  to  tear  him  to  pieces  with  hand-shaking,  and 
pushing  him  about,  and  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  from 
"  The  Glen  "  saw  him  no  more.  Nora  looked  eagerly,  tri 
umphantly,  at  Mrs.  Baltimore.  The  young  widow  was  pale 
with  excitement,  and  her  eyes  glistened  with  tears  of  enthusi 
asm  as  she  turned  to  Sir  Francis  Cleveland : 

"  Isn't  he  splendid  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Baltimore,"  was  the  frank  reply  of  the  Eng 
lishman,  "  he  is  the  greatest  man  I  have  seen  in  America,  if 
he  is  young." 

"  What's  your  opinion,  Mr.  Cutaway  ?"  inquired  she, 
turning  to  the  silent  Caterpillar.  That  young  gentleman  in  . 
lemon,  with  the  lemon-colored  beaver  mounted  upon  his 
head,  looked  fondly  at  his  yellow  gloves,  and  after  adjusting 
them  more  satisfactorily  at  the  ends  of  the  fingers,  replied  in 
his  high  key : 

"In  candor,  I  must  state,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  that  if  by  some 
rude  shock  of  earthquake,  or  by  some  conflagration — some 
vulgar  conflagration — the  city  should  be  destroyed,  and  I 
should  be  forced  to  take  refuge  in  the  vulgar  country,  and 
none  of  the  elegant  troupe  of  dramatic  artists  should  escape 
destruction,  I  might  feel  inclined  to  approach  this  young 
orator  for  the  purpose  of  securing  an  hour's  dramatic  enter 
tainment.  He  is  surely  a  temporary  Lethe  for  ennui." 

"  I  should  think  he  was,"  was  her  amused  reply,  as  the 
carriage  moved  off  through  the  dissolving  crowd. 

The  shouts  of  the  people,  as  they  followed  Rutherford  off 
to  some  place  of  public  entertainment,  arose  occasionally 
upon  the  air.  But  after  awhile  they  grew  faint  in  the  dis- 


STORMCLIFF.  289 

tance,  and  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  found  greater  facility 
in  making  their  way  along  the  street.  Many  persons,  how 
ever,  recognised  the  saviour  of  their  town,  and  cheered  her  as 
her  carriage  passed  them.  Just  as  the  vehicle  was  about  to 
turn  into  a  side  street  to  secure  a  clear  way  for  the  drive 
homewards,  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron  made  his  appearance 
on  the  sidewalk,  and  Mrs.  Baltimore  directed  the  driver  to 
stop  the  horses  until  she  could  speak  to  him.  The  clergy 
man  met  the  carriage  at  the  street-curb,  and  raising  his  hat, 
said: 

"  I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  the  speaking  to-day  as  much  as 
I  have.  I  saw  you  in  the  distance,  but  the  crowd  was  so 
great  I  could  not  get  anywhere  near  you.  Rutherford  has 
made  his  mark  to-day ;  and  I  hear  already  that  the  people  are 
demanding  that  he  shall  be  nominated  at  the  caucus  to-night 
as  the  candidate  for  the  Legislature.  His  speech  has  pro 
bably  secured  him  the  nomination.  If  he  is  elected,  there 
will  be  a  rattling  among  the  dry  bones  of  our  State  Assembly ; 
mark  my  words." 

"  I  hope  he  may,  indeed,"  was  the  fervent  response  of  the 
mistress  of  "The  Glen."  "I  never  heard  such  effective 
imagery  in  my  life.  I  can  understand  now  how  he  has  won 
the  sobriquet  of  Golden-Lip.  That  wonderful  mouth  is  won 
derfully  sweet  when  he  descends  to  persuasion.  But  when 
he  denounces,  that  mouth  is  the  cave  of  thunderbolts.  But 
where  is  Marie  ?  It  is  not  possible  that  she  has  missed  this 
treat.  I  expected  to  see  her  with  you." 

"  What  can  you  mean  ?"  exclaimed  the  clergyman.  "  Did 
she  come  with  you  from  '  The  Glen  ?'  " 

"Certainly  not,"  was  the  surprised  answer.  "She  left  for 
home  last  evening.  She  said  urgent  business  demanded  her 
presence  At  home ;  and  though  I  urged  her  to  remain,  she 
would  not;  consent.  So,  at  her  request,  I  sent  her  to  town 
in  my  pLaeton,  accompanied  by  my  father.  He  returned 
last  night  and  stated  that  he  had  parted  with  his  charge  at 
a  dry-goods  store  where  she  desired  to  be  left.  Is  it  possible 

13 


290  STORMCLIFF. 

you  have  not  seen  her?  You  alarm  me.  She  should  have 
been  at  home  by  eight  o'clock  last  evening,  at  the  furthest." 

"Merciful  Heaven !"  exclaimed  the  father,  "  what  has  be 
come  of  my  child  ?  Gone  all  night,  do  you  say  ?" 

"  Why,  certainly,"  replied  Mrs.  Baltimore.  "  What  time 
was  it,  Nora,  when  father  started  home  with  her  ?" 

"  It  was  six  o'clock  last  evening,"  replied  the  old  nurse. 
"  I  heard  Miss  Heron  say  to  him  upon  starting,  that  she 
wished  to  be  left  at  Benjamin  West's  dry-goods  store ;  there 
would  be  time  to  do  some  shopping  before  she  went  home. 
If  I  were  in  your  place,  Mr.  Heron,  I  would  go  to  Mrs. 
Cranch's.  She  probably  went  there  on  her  way  home,  and 
was  persuaded  by  Mary  to  stay  all  night." 

"  No,  no  !"  said  Mr.  Heron,  his  alarm  increasing  ;  "  she 
would  not  stay  there  half  the  day.  It  is  nearly  one  o'clock. 
She  may  be  sick.  That  would  detain  her.  I  will  go  at  once, 
for  it  is  so  unlike  Marie's  way  of  acting.  Why  did  she 
leave  you,  Mrs.  Baltimore  ?  There  was  no  earthly  reason  for 
her  doing  so  that  I  know  of." 

"  Indeed  I  cannot  tell,  Mr.  Heron.  She  looked  low-spirited 
and  depressed  for  several  days.  She  would  not  acknowledge 
it  to  me,  but  endeavored  to  shake  it  off  when  she  saw  that  I 
noticed  it.  I  sincerely  trust  you  will  find  her  at  Mrs. 
Cranch^s.  Get  in  here  with  us,  and  we  will  drive  there 
at  once." 

The  anxious  father  accepted  the  invitation,  and  the  driver 
urged  his  fleet  steeds  along  the  street.  Arriving  at  the 
dwelling  of  Marie's  friend,  the  carriage  stopped,  and  the  foot 
man  leaping  from  the  box,  ascended  the  steps  and  rang 
the  door-bell.  A  maid-servant  answered  the  bell,  and  in 
reply  to  the  inquiry,  stated  that  Miss  Heron  had  not  been  at 
the  house.  The  clergyman  in  dismay  announced  his  intention 
of  seeing  Miss  Cranch  himself.  The  carriage-door  was 
opened  for  him,  and  he  hastened  up  to  the  house.  Summon 
ing  the  young  lady  to  the  door  by  a  startling  message  of 
Marie's  absence,  he  was  informed  that  his  daughter  had  not 


STOKMCLIFF.  291 

been  seen  by  any  of  the  Craneh  family,  and  they  all  supposed 
her  to  be  still  a  visitor  at  "  The  Glen." 

"  Come  back  to  the  carriage,  Mr.  Heron,"  called  out  Mrs. 
Baltimore;  "  we  will  drive  you  around  to  West's  store." 

Again  the  carriage  was  driven  rapidly  ahead,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  were  whirled  up  in  front  of  the  designated  shop. 
The  proprietor  was  standing  in  the  door  gossiping  with  a 
neighbor,  but  when  he  saw  the  face  of  his  most  valuable 
customer  in  the  carriage,  he  bowed  low  and  advanced  to  meet 
her.  Mrs.  Baltimore  did  not  alight,  however,  but  anticipated 
the  inquiry  of  the  clergyman  in  her  quick,  nervous  way  when 
excited. 

"  Have  you  seen  Miss  Heron  ?  Was  she  in  your  store 
last  evening  about  seven  or  eight  o'clock?  She's  missing, 
and  her  father  is  very  anxious  about  her.  Did  my  father 
drive  her  to  your  store  last  evening  in  the  phaeton  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes  !"  was  the  bland  reply  of  the  serene  man  of  trade, 
as  he  bowed  respectfully  to  the  different  members  of  the 
party,  and  apparently  unconscious  as  yet  what  a  valuable 
customer  for  the  display  of  his  dress-goods  had  vanished 
from  the  community."  "  The  young  lady  was  here,  madam, 
last  evening  and  made  several  small  purchases.  She  was  left 
here  by  your  father.  I  offered  to  send  her  little  bundle  home 
for  her ;  but  no,  she  would  take  it  herself."  The  alarmed 
countenances  of  his  audience  seemed  to  check  the  serene 
flow  of  his  spirits,  for  the  smile  gave  place  to  a  serious  look 
as  he  inquired:  "Did  she  not  go  directly  home ?  It  was 
quite  dark  when  she  left  the  store.  I  do  not  recollect  ever 
to  have  seen  Miss  Heron  out  so  late  and  unattended  before  : 
I  told  her  so  ;  but  she  only  smiled,  and  said  it  was  only 
a  short  walk  home," 

"Could  she  have  gone  to  Mrs.  Crandall's?"  inquired 
Nora. 

The  clergyman  shook  his  head  sorrowfully.  The  disap 
pearance  of  his  only  child  overwhelmed  him.  "  She  never 
goes  there  to  spend  the  night,  Nora.  She  is  lost  or  mur- 


292  8TOEMCLIFF. 

dered.  Oh,  Marie,  my  child,  where  shall  I  look  for 
you  ?" 

"  Go  to  the  police-office,"  said  the  Englishman,  bluntly. 

"  The  Chief  of  Police,"  put  in  the  high  key  of  the  gentle 
man  in  lemon.  "  He'll  telegraph  all  over  town." 

"  What  use  would  a  telegraph  be  in  a  town  like  this  ?  " 
said  the  Englishman,  gruffly. 

The  Caterpillar  shrank  into  himself  and  volunteered  no 
more  suggestions,  but  sat  meekly  smoothing  on  his  yellow 
gloves.  The  proposition  of  the  Englishman  was  adopted, 
and  the  clergyman  was  driven  around  to  the  office  of  a  po 
lice  justice.  The  magistrate  was  found  lolling  on  a  bench 
before  his  office,  and  smoking  a  pipe.  He  was  a  thin,  wiry- 
looking  man,  evidently  elected  by  the  people,  and  responsible 
only  to  the  devil  for  the  administrative  integrity  of  his  posi 
tion.  Corrupt  times  are  easily  recognisable  by  a  glance  into 
the  faces  of  local  magistrates.  The  simple,  honest  face  of 
the  farmer-justice  is  replaced  by  a  countenance  of  cunning, 
warmed  with  other  men's  whiskey.  The  justice  honored  his 
visitors  by  straightening  his  legs,  when  he  saw  that  the  party 
looked  equal  to  stimulative  donations  in  the  interest  of  jus 
tice.  But  soon  ascertaining  that  the  principal  party  inter 
ested  in  the  recovery  of  the  young  lady  understood  tho 
roughly  the  duties  of  magistrates,  and  reserved  the  excess  of 
his  purse  for  suffering  humanity,  he  promised  to  interest  the 
police  in  the  search,  and  then  relapsed  into  the  lolling  posi 
tion  to  which  the  people  had  elected  him. 

"  He  looks  like  a  blood-sucker,"  said  the  Englishman,  as 
they  drove  away.  "That  man  won't  do  a  thing,  I  pre 
dict." 

"I  expect  little  of  him,"  said  the  clergyman.  "I  shall  ad 
vertise  my  child  in  the  papers.  I  cannot  express  to  you  all 
my  anxiety.  Please  leave  me  at  the  next  corner;  I  wish  to 
see  the  editor  of  the  evening  paper.  You  have  all  been  so 
kind  to  me  in  my  anxiety — may  God  bless  you  all.  Here  is 
the  place  I  wish  to  get  out.  Yes,  that  corner." 


STORMCLIFF.  293 

The  carriage  drove  up  to  the  sidewalk  again ;  and  bidding 
them  farewell,  he  walked  away  in  terrible  anxiety  and  dis 
tress.  Alone  in  the  world,  every  affection  of  his  heart  had 
twined  around  Marie.  She  had  been  his  sole  idol  since  the 
death  of  his  wife ;  and  now  to  lose  her,  with  such  frightful 
possibilities  surrounding  her  disappearance,  nearly  drove 
him  frantic.  He  hurried  on  towards  the  office  of  the  even 
ing  paper.  In  passing  the  post-office  he  recollected  that  he 
had  not  yet  called  for  the  mail  of  the  day.  He  entered  the 
office  and  inquired  for  his  letters.  They  were  handed  to 
him.  Lo  !  one  of  them  was  addressed  to  him  in  his  daugh 
ter's  handwriting.  He  tore  the  letter  open,  and  his  amazed 
eyes  read  thus : 

"  MY  DEAR  FATHER  : 

"  I  drop  this  note  into  the  office  myself.  I  am  going  to 
leave,  and  my  heart  is  almost  broken  at  the  thought.  You 
have  trusted  me  implicitly  always,  and  this  fact  renders  it  so 
hard  to  take  the  important  step  without  consulting  you.  I 
know  you  would  persuade  me  from  the  step  I  am  about  to 
take  ;  you  would  oppose  me  utterly.  And  this  is  the  one 
great  occasion  of  my  life  when  I  cannot  be  thwarted.  No  ! 
I  cannot.  And  yet  I  look  back  to  you  in  your  loneliness  and 
desolation  with  feelings  of  anguish  which  you  must  believe 
in  because  your  Marie  assures  you  she  suffers  from  them. 
I  cannot  consult  you,  because  you  would  oppose  me  ;  and 
my  heart  is  so  utterly  and  absolutely  enlisted  in  my  depar 
ture,  that  my  very  existence  depends  upon  it.  I  must  go, 
and  you  must  be  left  in  the  darkness  of  suspicion  regarding 
me.  I  may  return  ;  but,  alas  !  I  feel  that  a  long,  long  time 
may  elapse  before  I  shall  be  in  your  arms  again.  Forgive 
me  and  pray  for  me,  for  I  am  very  unhappy.  Don't  adver 
tise  me,  I  beg  of  you;  it  will  only  cause  reproach  to  attach 
to  my  name,  and  will  do  no  good.  I  cannot  be  tracked.  I 
have  taken  every  means  that  human  ingenuity  could  suggest 
to  avoid  being  followed.  You  cannot  find  me ;  and  I  beg  of 


294  STORMCLIFF. 

yon  patiently  to  await  my  return  in  silence,  though  my  ab 
sence  should  extend  to  years.  You  will,  I  hope,  be  satisfied 
at  last  with  your  poor  lost  daughter 

"  MARIE." 

The  note  was  crushed  convulsively  in  his  hand,  and  blind 
ing  tears  came  to  his  eyes.  He  knew  then  that  she  had 
eloped  ;  but  who  in  the  name  of  mercy  had  enticed  her 
away  ?  Who  had  borne  away  that  inestimable  treasure  of 
his  home,  and  for  what  conceivable  motive  could  she  have 
eloped  without  trusting  him?  Would  he  not  have  given 
his  consent  to  her  marriage  with  any  man  who  was  master 
of  her  heart,  and  who  was  not  irreclaimably  evil  and  aban 
doned  ?  She  knew  that  he  would,  and  still  had  she  fled. 
He  wandered  up  and  down  the  streets  of  the  town  uncon 
scious  of  human  presence  on  the  walks.  He  wandered  until 
near  nightfall,  mourning  and  meditating  upon  her  note. 
Then  he  went  to  his  desolate  lodging-place,  and  shut  him 
self  up  in  his  room,  and  kneeling  beside  his  table,  mur 
mured  :  "  Thy  holy  will  be  done."  After  a  long  time  of 
prayer  he  arose,  and  his  purpose  was  fixed.  In  the  first 
place,  he  would  dispatch  a  note  to  the  mistress  of "  The 
Glen,"  stating  that  he  had  a  letter  from  his  daughter,  and 
requesting  the  courtesy  of  Mrs.  Baltimore's  silence  until  his 
child  should  return.  He  would  request  her,  if  possible, 
to  close  the  lips  also  of  her  guests.  In  the  second  place,  he 
would  follow  Marie's  request,  and  raise  no  alarm  regarding 
her  mysterious  absence ;  but  wait  patiently  her  return,  when 
the  difficulties  attending  her  should  be  cleared  from  her 
path.  He  proceeded,  in  pursuance  of  this  resolution,  to  ad 
dress  a  note  to  Mrs.  Baltimore  and  another  to  the  police 
justice;  one  to  Mrs.  Crunch,  and  one  to  the  keeper  of  the 
dry-goods  store.  If  they  could  not  keep  the  strange  secret, 
he  would  feel  at  least  that  he  had  obeyed  his  child's  last 
request.  Having  finished  ,the  notes,  he  went  out  into  the 
street  to  deliver  them  himself,  or  to  find  messengers  trusty 


STORMCLIFF.  295 

to  bear  them  to  their  destination.  He  found  a  boy  in  whom 
he  had  great  confidence,  and  sent  him  off  on  horseback  to 
"  The  Glen."  The  persons  for  whom  the  other  notes  were 
intended  he  was  successful  in  finding  at  home  ;  and  to  them 
he  explained  that  his  daughter  had  written  him  a  letter,  and 
there  was  no  further  necessity  of  following  the  matter  up. 
Having  fulfilled  this  sensible  mission,  he  returned  to  his  deso 
late  and  deserted  home  at  the  private  boarding-house,  to 
seek  consolation  in  the  promises  of  God. 

While  Mrs,  Baltimore  and  her  friends  were  enjoying  them 
selves  in  the  town,  and  listening  to  the  oratory  of  Rutherford, 
the  servants  at  "  The  Glen  "  were  holding  high  revel.  Every 
guest  was  absent  upon  some  party  of  pleasure,  and  no  one 
remained  in  the  mansion  but  the  domestics.  There  was  no 
one  to  restrain  their  hilarity,  and  they  roved  through  the 
gardens  of  the  place  and  around  the  park.  Some  of  them 
chased  after  the  deer,  which  had  been  secured  for  the  pro 
perty  in  the  wilds  of  the  North,  enjoying  their  fright  as  they 
bounded  away  under  the  trees.  Some  roamed  through  the 
gardens,  and  compelled  the  old  gardener  to  desist  from  his 
work,  telling  him  that  there  was  no  mistress  upon  the  place, 
and  they  were  determined  there  should  be  no  work  either 
until  there  should  be  signs  of  Mrs.  Baltimore's  return.  The 
old  man  was  forced  to  acquiesce,  for  his  tools  were  hidden, 
from  him;  and  determined  to  make  the  most  of  his  forced 
holiday  he  found  his  way  into  the  house,  and  wandered  up 
and  down  its  rooms,  enjoying  a  glimpse  of  its  rare  decora 
tions  and  the  elegant  works  of  art  which  had  arrived  from 
Europe.  In  the  course  of  his  wanderings  he  entered  the 
ancient  parlor  of  the  front  building,  and  recollecting  the 
disappointment  he  had  experienced  upon  his  former  visit  to 
it,  when  accompanied  by  the  mistress  of  "  The  Glen,"  he 
could  not  forbear  taking  another  look  at  the  family  portraits 
from  which  the  gem  of  them  all  had  been  removed.  What 
was  his  amazement,  upon  throwing  open  the  shutters  and 
admitting  light  to  the  room,  to  discover  the  lost  portrait  of 


296  STORMCLIFF. 

Gertrude  Baltimore  restored  to  its  place  upon  the  wall. 
There  it  was,  sure  enough,  with  its  quaint  look,  cap  and 
tassels,  and  all.  He  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand,  as  was 
his  wont  when  he  wished  great  accuracy  of  vision,  and  took 
a  good  look  at  the  ancient  lady,  whose  memory  had  been 
revered  by  his  father  with  a  devotion  due  to  a  goddess. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  his  old  eyes  were  failing  him  so 
fast !  He  rubbed  them  with  his  wrinkled  and  weather- 
beaten  hand  and  took  another  look.  A  low  whistle  of  sur 
prise  escaped  him.  Then  he  looked  around  to  see  that  he 
was  not  followed  by  any  of  the  domestics.  That  glance 
satisfied  him  that  he  was  entirely  alone.  He  approached  the 
portrait  and  scrutinized  it  carefully.  Then  he  exclaimed 
aloud : 

"  Well,  well,  well !  if  that  don't  beat  all  the  queer  things 
this  old  man  ever  saw.  It's  her,  and  it  aint  her.  It's  the 
Lady  Gertrude,  and  then  agin  it  ain't.  What  the  bothera 
tion  has  happened  to  the  old  lady?  I  know  the  livin' 
changes  beyond  knowin'  sometimes ;  but  may  old  Weaver 
be  shot  for  a  hieenee,  if  he  ever  seen  a  black  eye  change  into 
a  grey  eye  afore.  It's  past  the  laws  of  natur.  And  the  eye 
is  shaped,  too,  as  it  never  were  afore.  It's  kind  o'  squeezed 
out  and  stretched.  How  kin  that  be  ? — how  can  that  be  ? 
It's  the  lady  herself;  but  she's  stole  some  other  woman's 
eyes,  or  some  other  woman  has  stolen  hern." 

The  old  man  stood  in  every  favorable  position  that  he 
could  think  of  to  secure  the  most  favorable  light  upon  the 
picture,  still  fancying  that  his  eyes  must  be  playing  him  false, 
and  that  all  would  come  right  at  last.  It  was  ah1  in  vain, 
however.  He  shook  his  old  head,  and  muttered:  "It's  her; 
and  then  agin  it  ain't  her." 

Finally,  after  a  long  discussion  with  himself,  he  ejacu 
lated  : 

"  What  a  stupid  thing  old  Weaver's  a  gettin'  to  be.  I 
understand  it ;  of  course  I  do." 

With  the  last  exclamation  he  thrust  his  hand  up  and  out- 


STORMCI.IFF.  297 

wards  before  him,  as  a  gesture  of  finnl  and  irrevocable  cer 
tainty,  and  repeated  :  "  Of  course  I  do.  It's  Nora's  doin's, 
and  I  jest  know  it.  O  rny!  but  isn't  she  cunnin' ?  The 
pictur  is  there ;  but  it  might  jest  as  well  have  a  mask  onto 
it.  I  can't  dispute  the  pictur ;  no,  sir,  that  I  can't.  But 
who'll  know  the  face  'ceptin'  some  such  old  critter  as  me  ? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know.  My  fine  lady  Gertrude  has 
gone  and  got  strange  eyes  onto  herself.  I'll  bet  Nora  went 
and  painted  the  eyes  over  herself.  She  kin  do  that  thing. 
But  O  my !  ain't  she  crafty  ?" 

One  of  the  servants  came  rushing  into  the  house,  shouting : 
"  Weaver  !  Weaver !  you  old  rascal ;  hurry  out,  the  mistress 
is  comin'.  Her  carriage  is  a'most  up  to  the  porter's  lodge." 
,  The  old  gardener  stole  quietly  out  of  the  house  and  found 
the  servants  flying  in  every  direction,  to  be  back  in  their  pro 
per  places  for  the  arrival  of  the  young  widow.  He  walked  out 
to  his  post  in  the  garden  green-houses,  muttering  to  himself: 

"  I  respect  Nora,  that  I  do.  She  means  well,  and  she  is  a 
faithful  soul ;  but  O  my !  ain't  she  cunnin'  ?" 

The  carriage  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  was  just  on  the  point  of 
entering  the  park,  when  a  boy  on  horseback  rode  up  to  the 
porter's  gate,  and,  attracting  her  attention,  delivered  to  her 
a  note.  She  glanced  her  eye  over  the  contents,  and,  seeing 
that  it  required  no  answer,  sent  the  boy  back  to  the  town. 
Then,  as  the  carriage  rolled  along  the  avenue  of  the  park, 
she  explained  to  her  companions  the  wishes  of  the  Rev. 
Charles  Heron  regarding  the  note  from,  and  the  disappear 
ance  of,  his  daughter. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A  TEAK  passed  by  and  no  further  word  came  to  the  lonely 
clergyman  of  his  lost  daughter.  Whether  she  slept  beneath 
the  sods  of  the  earth,  or  dragged  out  a  life  of  weariness,  or 

15* 


298  STORMCLIFF. 

rejoiced  in  the  love  of  one  worthy  of  her  pure  heart's  devo 
tion,  he  knew  not.  To  him  she  was  as  one  dond.  The  new 
dwelling,  in  which  he  had  anticipated  so  much  joy  with 
Marie,  was  finished.  The  plans  of  the  new  house  had  been 
made  by  her  own  hands.  Every  convenience,  every  comfort 
which  she  had  advocated,  was  secured  in  its  construction.  He 
had  furnished  every  room  as  she  had  indicated,  in  the  tender 
ness  of  his  love  and  hope  that  she  would  yet  return.  But  at 
last  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  belief  that  she  was  so  involved 
in  secret  troubles  that  she  could  not  return.  He  even 
prayed  to  God  as  if  his  all  was  now  gathered  in  Heaven, 
and  he  bad  only  to  wait  patiently  his  own  summons  to  the 
"Better  Land." 

Society  only  shook  its  wise  head  now  when  Marie's  name 
was  mentioned,  and  regretted  that  so  much  loveliness  and  so 
much  talent  should  have  been  so  easily  led  astray.  No 
doubt,  she  had  run  off  with  some  sudden  and  romantic  object 
of  attachment ;  but  wh'o  that  object  could  have  been  was 
the  great  mystery  for  the  town.  No  one  was  missing,  no 
one  had  gone  away  from  the  town ;  and  therefore  she  must 
have  eloped  with  eome  gentleman  whom  she  had  met  upon 
her  visits  elsewhere.  Miss  Louise  Stanford,  who  had  formerly 
considered  it  her  great  vocation  in  life  to  be  the  grand  bearer 
of  intelligence  to  the  neighborhood  of  Marie's  daily  conduct, 
contented  herself  now  with  raids  upon  young  females  gene 
rally.  Her  specialty  had  fled  beyond  the  reach  of  her  keen 
eyes,  and  she  only  said  of  her  now:  "Romantic  people 
always  end  like  that  unfortunate  Marie  Heron.  Poor  girl, 
if  she  had  only  remained  constant  to  Mr.  Rutherford,  how 
happy  it  might  have  been  for  her.  He  is  a  member  of  the 
Legislature ;  is  gaining  distinction  in  his  profession  ;  is  be 
coming  very  popular  in  society ;  and  if  this  terrible  stigma 
of  his  birth  could  only  be  removed,  how  sweet  he  would  be." 

The  qualified  character  of  this  last  statement  was  quite  a 
fair  index  of  the  young  lawyer's  actual  position  in  society. 
His  marvellous  success  had  planted  him  just  half  way  in  and 


STORMCLIFF.  299 

half  way  out  of  society.  By  some  families  of  the  "  highest 
respectability"  he  was  received  and  courted  unqualifiedly. 
By  others,  he  was  still  held  in  probation,  for  other  and  fur 
ther  approving  nods  of  the  modern  Jove — fashion.  The 
novel  which  had  occasioned  such  a  sensation  in  literary  cir 
cles,  "  Oloffe,  the  Dreamer,"  was  now  believed  to  have  ema 
nated  from  his  little  office  by  the  river.  Who  else  could 
the  lady  friend  have  been  but  Mary  Delavan  ?  Had  she  not 
deserted  him  upon  his  rejection  by  the  will  of  Judge  Holden  ? 
And  had  she  not  returned  into  his  circle  of  friends  when  the 
superb  and  wealthy  Mrs  Baltimore  took  him  up,  and  placed 
him  high  on  her  list  of  intimates  ?  What  woman  in  the 
town  was  ignorant  of  these  facts  ?  What  woman  did  not 
know  that  the  mistress  of  "  The  Glen  "  contrived  to  have  a 
pressure  of  legal  business  since  Rutherford  had  become  her 
lawyer  ?  Who  was  ignorant  that  Nicholas  Traver,  notwith 
standing  the  young  lawyer  had  opposed  him  in  the  murder 
trial,  now,  through  the  influence  of  his  daughter,  gave  him 
several  important  matters  to  litigate  for  him  ?  Did  he  not 
ride  to  the  gloomy  and  mysterious  estate  when  no  one  else 
could  gain  admittance  ?  Had  he  not  stood  beside  Nicholas 
Traver  in  the  mysterious  parlor  of  that  doomed  property, 
when  the  lightning  descended  the  chimney  and  tore  up  the 
planks  of  the  floor  within  ten  feet  of  them  ?  Everybody 
knew  this  ;  and  everybody  was  aware  also  that  Nicholas 
Traver  appeared  anxious  to  have  the  lawyer  with  him  when 
storms  threatened  from  the  skies.  It  was  said  that  the  strange, 
elegant  man  had  a  superstitious  confidence  that  Rutherford's 
presence  protected  him  from  destruction  by  the  electric 
fluid.  A  stranger  rumor  still  was  gaining  credit  among 
the  crowd.  Within  the  year,  the  old  prophetess  had  fallen 
into  her  trances  again ;  and  in  one  of  them,  as  report  gave 
the  whisper,  she  had  testified  vaguely  that  Nicholas  Traver 
had  been  the  cause  of  Marie  Heron's  mysterious  disappear 
ance  ;  whether  he  had  murdered  her,  or  how  he  had  disposed 
of  her,  after  his  last  ride  with  her  in  the  phaeton,  was  not 


300  STOKMCLIFP. 

defined  accurately  by  the  marvellous  dame  of  tea-pnrties.  It 
was  enough  to  know  that  the  trance  referred  to  it,  and 
Nora's  trances  never  lied.  When  this  terrible  addition 
had  become  recently  a  part  of  the  mystery  fund  of  the  town, 
it  seemed  -as  if  the  maw  of  curiosity  would  be  stretched 
to  its  utter  destruction.  Who  was  the  strange  being  that 
uttered  prophecies,  and  held  the  steward's  key  of  the  young 
widow's  unbounded  wealth  ?  Who  was  Rutherford,  the 
brilliant  and  the  rising  sun  ?  Why  had  Nicholas  Traver 
sacrificed  his  daughter  Grace  to  the  arms  of  the  aged  Balti 
more  ;  and  why  had  her  old  nurse  been  forbidden  access  to 
the  mysterious  marriage  ?  Who  had  murdered  the  brother 
of  Mrs.  Baltimore,  and  still  ranged  the  earth  unpunished  ? 
What  was  the  venerable  clock  willed  to  the  outcast  for  ? 
And  where  was  Marie,  the  beautiful  and  the  fawn-footed  ? 

While  these  questions  were  renewed  in  the  autumnal 
months,  and  the  dreamy  wand  of  October  commenced  its 
gorgeous  transformations  of  the  oaks  and  maples  of  "  The 
Glen,"  the  town  was  electrified  by  cards  of  invitation  which 
fell  like  autumn  leaves  within  its  limits.  The  young  widow 
had  laid  aside  her  mourning,  and  the  ancient  halls  of  the 
Baltimore  estate  were  to  be  thrown  open  for  a  grand  mas 
querade-ball.  The  excitement  was  unprecedented  in  the 
circles  of  fashion.  Such  wonderful  stories  of  the  improve 
ments  and  decorations  of  "  The  Glen"  had  gone  abroad 
through  the  county,  such  extravagant  descriptions  of  the 
wealth  and  grandeur  of  the  young  widow  had  been  circu 
lated,  that  an  invitation  to  the  great  entertainment  was 
looked  upon  with  delight,  and  the  most  expensive  and 
elaborate  toilets  to  personate  the  royal  and  the  great 
were  everywhere  in  course  of  preparation.  A  note  accom 
panied  every  invitation  to  the  effect  that  Mrs  Rudd  alone 
would  remain  unmasked  ;  and  it  wras  expected  as  a  matter 
of  courtesy  and  precaution  that  every  one  would,  upon  enter 
ing  the  house,  pass  into  the  apartment  designated  and 
unmask  before  her,  previously  to  joining  the  revel.  No  one 


STOKMCLIFF.  301 

more  competent  could  have  been  selected  for  the  purpose  of 
limiting  the  entertainment  to  only  the  invited  guests.  The 
entire  house  was  to  be  thrown  open  for  the  masqueraders, 
and  two  splendid  bands  of  music  were  secured  from  the 
metropolis  to  facilitate  dancing  in  the  old  and  new  buildings 
of  "The  Glen." 

When  the  momentous  evening  of  the  ball  arrived,  the 
whole  town  appeared  to  be  thronged  with,  carriages  driving 
up  to  the  doors  of  the  fashionables  for  the  splendidly  attired 
guests  who  had  such  a  long  ride  before  them  to  reach  the 
scene  of  the  entertainment.  From  the  private  residences, 
also,  through  the  county,  vehicles  were  hurrying  forward 
to  the  revel,  filled  with  personages  attired  in  scarlet  and 
velvet,  in  royal  robes  and  crowns ;  white  and  scarlet  plumes 
dancing  in  the  light  of  the  carriage  lamps,  and  diamonds 
glistening  in  the  powdered  hair  of  the  olden  time.  Upon 
arriving  at  the  porter's  lodge  of  "  The  Glen,"  the  revellers 
discovered  an  arch  of  colored  lamps  suspended  high  above 
the  gate-posts,  and  beneath  them  was  an  illumination  in 
scarlet  letters  of  the  word  "  welcome" 

From  the  entrance-gate  to  the  door  of  the  mansion  the 
entire  avenue  was  radiant  with  colored  lamps  suspended 
from  the  trees — some  twining  upwards  around  the  ancient 
oaks  like  vines  with  many-colored  fruits,  others  suspended 
across  the  avenue  in  festoons  above.  Banners  of  the  olden 
time  fluttered  from  the  branches  of  the  trees,  with  their 
heraldic  devices  of  crowns  and  lions'  heads  and  stags  and 
the  Crusaders'  cross  of  red.  As  the  carriages  came  pouring 
up  along  the  avenue  the  occupants  caught  glimpses  through 
the  trees  of  some  great  brilliancy  ahead.  But  only  upon 
whirling  around  into  the  sweep  of  the  great  open  circle 
in  front  of  the  house  was  the  real  splendor  of  the  scene 
made  manifest.  The  whole  mansion  was  illuminated  from 
top  to  bottom  in  yellow  fire.  The  great  dome  of  the 
old  building  was  one  mass  of  scarlet  lamps,  like  a  huge 
sun  setting  in  a  sea  of  gold.  And  beyond  the  mansion 


302  STOKMCLIFF. 

towards  the  pine-bordered  glen,  the  eye  caught  glimpses 
of  the  garden  walks,  brilliantly  lighted  in  various  colors. 

The  stirring  music  of  the  dance  was  already  inviting  to 
revelry  and  mirth,  and  the  blended  music  of  the  two  bands 
in  the  distinct  buildings  echoed  far  away  under  the  trees  of 
the  park.  The  entrance  through  the  ivy-wreathed  porch  of 
stone  was  guarded  by  four  servants  in  the  armor  of  Cru 
saders,  and  each  holding  aloft  a  flaming  torch.  These  guar 
dians  of  the  entrance  admitted  but  one  carriage  party  at  a 
time,  who  passed  in  under  an  arch  of  green-house  flowers, 
and  were  conducted  to  the  side  apartment  opposite  the  par 
lor  of  family  portraits,  where  each  unmasked  before  old 
Nora,  who  stood  there,  calm  and  tall  and  dignified,  and 
bowing  recognition  as  the  disguise  was  for  a  moment  re 
moved  from  the  face.  The  approved  guest  then  resumed  the 
musk,  and  was  pointed  away  to  the  parlors  and  halls  by 
another  servant  in  armor,  who  wore  a  scarf  of  red  silk  and 
acted  as  usher,  calling  out  in  a  loud  voice  the  historic  titles 
of  the  new  comers  as  they  passed  in.  As  the  maskers  entered 
the  parlor  of  family  portraits  they  found  the  room  brilliantly 
lighted  and  festooned  with  fresh  flowers.  Passing  thence 
into  the  great  drawing-rooms  of  the  old  house,  they  found  a 
band  of  music  upon  a  dais  two  feet  high  festooned  with 
flowers.  Huge  mirrors  were  arranged  at  the  extremities  of 
these  drawing-rooms,  which  gave  the  appearance  of  rooms 
twice  their  actual  length,  and  reflected  back  the  images  of 
other  cavaliers  and  ladies 'whirling  in  the  dance.  The  music 
from  this  band  distinctly  met  the  ears  of  the  dancers  in  the 
great  circular  dining-room  under  the  dome,  from  which  the 
circular  table  had  been  removed,  and  the  memorial  city 
of  silver  carried  to  a  place  of  honor  in  the  hall  which 
connected  the  old  and  new  buildings.  Passing  through 
this  hall,  the  guests  arrived  at  a  scene  of  beauty  in  the 
new  buildings  which  resembled  the  dream-visions  of  fairy 
land. 

A  single  step  gave  ascent  from  the  connecting  hall  to  the 


STORMCLIFF.  303 

great  colonnade  which  formed  the  grand  hall  of  the  new 
building.  The  floor  was  of  polished  marble  of  variegated 
colors.  The  rows  of  columns  on  either  side,  sustaining  the 
galleries  of  the  second  story,  were  of  snow-white  marble, 
with  Corinthian  capitals.  The  rows  of  columns  above  them, 
sustaining  the  roof  of  the  house,  were  similar  in  pattern  and 
material,  and  between  them  the  guests  on  the  second  floor 
could  seat  themselves  and  look  down  upon  the  dancers  below. 
At  intervals  between  the  columns  of  the  grand  hall  were 
pedestals  sustaining  the  statues  brought  from  Italy,  the  huge 
glass  vases  filled  with  sporting  gold-fish,  the  exotic  plants  from 
the  conservatories,  and  orange  and  lemon  trees  full  of  golden 
and  yellow  fruit.  At  the  far  end  of  this  princely  hall  the 
marble  steps  curved  upwards  either  way  to  the  colonnade  and 
rooms  above.  Upon  the  second. floor,  between  two  pillars 
of  marble,  was  stationed  the  band,  flooding  the  house  with 
melody,  arid  timing  the  steps  of  the  revellers  below.  At 
every  available  point  flowers  were  festooned,  long  lilies  of 
white  nodded  over  the  heads  of  the  dancers,  and  the  rare 
exotics  of  scarlet  and  golden  hue  were  arranged  with  lavish 
hand.  The  saloon,  with  its  divans  and  fountain  of  mermaids, 
was  a  lounging-place  for  the  romantic  and  the  weary.  No 
lamp-light  illumined  it,  save  that  which  streamed  in  through 
the  arch  from  the  grand  hall ;  but  the  Venetian  blinds  were 
raised,  and  the  moonlight,  in  the  height  of  the  revel,  flooded 
into  the  apartment,  and  found  unknown  cavaliers  in  mask  in 
secret  converse  with  equally  unknown  queens  and  fairies  in 
disguise.  From  the  grand  hall  doors  opened  into  apart 
ments  richly  draped  and  ornamented  in  the  semblance  of 
oriental  luxury  or  Roman  and  Grecian  taste,  where  lovers  or 
groups  could  retreat  for  quiet  love  or  mirth. 

In  the  second  story  of  the  old  house,  in  the  front,  apart 
ments  were  provided  for  the  arrangement  of  disordered 
dress  and  hair,  and  where  the  maskers  could  assume  new 
characters  and  costumes  at  will.  So  superbly  were  the  ar 
rangements  of  the  revel  conducted,  that  closets  opening  into 


304  STORMCLIFF. 

these  apartments  were  filled  with  costumes  and  masks  of  every 
pattern,  that  the  revellers  might,  if  recognised,  retire  and 
change  their  dresses  during  the  evening. 

The  revel  was  at  its  height.  The  clocks  had  been  masked 
with  folds  of  silk,  that  the  heart  of  mirth  might  not  be  touch 
ed  by  the  chilling  hand  of  Time.  Oblivion  of  care  was  the 
order  of  the  night.  The  dancing  waxed  wilder,  the  music 
sounded  more  dreamily  to  the  loungers  in  the  saloons  or 
gardens,  the  wine  sparkled  more  freely  in  the  hands  of  the 
revellers,  eyes  grew  brighter  in  the  intoxication  of  pleasure, 
feet  tripped  more  buoyantly  through  the  mazes  of  the  dance, 
and  care  and  sorrow  were  swept  away  from  the  hearts  of  the 
beautiful  Amid  the  disguises  of  that  Lethean  night,  one  had 
been  conspicuous  to  all  for  its  brilliant  beauty  and  the  grace 
ful  carriage  of  its  wearer.  The  prince  in  scarlet  and  ermine, 
with  the  exquisite  collar  of  point  lace,  and  the  long  plume  of 
white  fluttering  off  from  the  scarlet  velvet  cap,  was  the  most 
gallant  and  graceful  dancer  of  the  evening.  His  compliments, 
delivered  with  such  insinuating  tones  of  delicacy  and  tact, 
had  caused  many  a  blush  to  the  unknown  and  unseen  cheeks 
of  the  hearers.  No  offers  to  dance  were  accepted  more  will 
ingly  than  his;  no  bows  were  more  courtly,  no  steps  more 
princely  than  his.  Conjectures  had  been  whispered  repeat 
edly  from  lady  to  lady,  but  the  scarlet  prince  remained  a 
mystery  still.  Through  all  the  flattery  and  the  attentions 
lavished  upon  him  by  the  female  throng,  he  had  never  lost 
sight  of  his  premeditated  purpose  of  the  night.  He  sought 
to  identify  one  lady  alone,  to  win  her  arm  and  to  solve  a 
mystery  of  her  heart.  In  vain  had  he  exhausted  the  arrows 
from  the  quiver  of  his  intellect,  and  the  golden  words  of  art 
from  his  tongue.  He  could  not  identify  her.  He  could  not 
discover  under  any  mask  language  of  repartee  and  wit  which 
should  be  the  brilliant  and  familiar  reply  of  her  lips.  Sho 
was  unusually  graceful,  too,  and  that  clue  also  had  baffled 
his  search.  He  had  danced  in  every  room,  jested  in  every 
group,  and  promenaded  with  half  the  lady-masks  in  the  house, 


STOBMCLIFF.  305 

"but  all  in  vain.  Nothing  satisfactory  as  yet  pointed  out  any 
female  as  the  lady  of  his  search.  She  might  have  walked 
Avith  him,  danced  with  him,  and  still  have  baffled  him.  He 
knew  she  was  equal  to  this,  had  she  recognised  him  and  been 
so  inclined.  But  he  was  unwilling  to  believe  she  had  actual 
ly  evaded  him,  gone  fi'om  his  society,  yet  unknown.  Already 
by  his  superior  wit  he  had  discovered  the  identity  of  many 
ladies,  and  informed  them  of  it,  though  remaining  himself, 
through  his  admirable  counterfeit  of  other  gentlemen,  still 
unknown.  Where  should  he  turn  next  ?  Where  should  he 
make  another  essay  to  find  her?  He  stood  silent,  and 
thoughtful,  and  alone  on  the  second  marble  step  leading  to 
the  gallery  above  the  dancing-hall,  his  scarlet  cloak  flung 
carelessly  over  one  shoulder,  and  the  point  of  his  rapier  rest 
ing  upon  the  step  just  above  the  one  on  which  he  was  keeping 
watch  of  the  dancers.  As  his  eye  ranged  over  their  heads, 
he  saw  a  new-comer,  apparently,  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  She 
might  be  only  a  reveller  in  a  new  disguise.  He  ascended  a 
few  steps  higher  for  a  better  view  over  the  crowd,  and  then 
he  was  able  to  study  the  detail  of  her  dress.  It  was  the 
character  of  a  priestess  of  the  Pagan  temple ;  flowing 
drapery  of  white,  arranged  admirably  to  display  a  waist  of 
exquisite  beauty,  and  one  bare  arm,  moulded  in  snow.  A 
a  wreath  of  green  oak  leaves  circled  her  head,  whose  outline 
and  hair  was  completely  disguised  by  some  white  drapery  she 
had  gathered  about  it.  She  wore  a  mask  of  white  silk.  In 
her  small,  beautiful  hand  she  grasped  a  sacrificial  knife  of 
her  order.  The  attentive  prince  upon  the  steps  muttered 
to  himself:  "That  is  just  like  one  of  her  conceits.  I'll  wager 
my  life  against  a  boor's  she  is  the  lady  of  my  pursuit.  I 
would  give  up  many  an  hour  of  joy  to  catch  one  glimpse 
of  that  costume  minus  the  mask.  That  figure  must  be  hers. 
It  can  be  no  other." 

He  left  the  stairway,  and  gradually  made  his  way  through 
the  dancers  to  her  side.  Bowing  gallantly,  he  said,  in  the 
disguised  voice  he  had  adopted  for  the  evening : 


306  STOBMCLIFF. 

"  A  priestess,  if  I  mistake  not.  Does  the  law  of  your  tem 
ple  allow  you  to  court  the  favor  of  Terpsichore  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  replied  a  voice  he  did  not  recognise.  "  Dan 
cing  can  be  made  subservient  to  the  worship  of  our  goddess. 
In  our  holy  rites  we  both  sing  and  dance." 

"But  would  you  be  allowed  to  dance  with  the  crown 
prince  of  the  realm  ?" 

"  Only  in  the  interest  of  religion,  and  to  further  the  cause 
of  worship,"  was  the  response  from  beneath  the  white  mask. 

"  Then  I  solicit  the  honor  of  your  hand  for  the  next  dance. 
In  it  I  shall  be  serving  the  goddess  whom  I  adore.  Pure 
worship  urges  me  to  solicit  your  hand  for  the  dance.  You 
are  the  divinity  who  has  arisen  upon  my  sight  like  a  star  of 
heaven.  I  would  attend  you  and  serve  you." 

"  Spoken  like  a  true  devotee,"  said  the  white  mask,  with  a 
clear,  ringing  laugh  which  he  was  unable  to  identify.  "  Your 
gallantry  entitles  you  to  favor.  I  will  dance  with  you.  I  trust 
you  are  handsome,  for  the  laws  of  our  temple  are  limited  to 
the  beautiful."  Again  the  ringing  laugh  followed. 

"  Please  define  your  ideas  of  handsome  and  I  can  answer 
you  more  satisfactorily,"  said  the  prince. 

"  Well,  listen,"  said  the  white  mask.  "  The  prince  who 
can  win  my  favor  must  have  blue  eyes." 

"  I  have  them  to  a  certainty." 

"  Then  his  hair  must  curl." 

"  I  can  satisfy  you  in  that  respect." 

"And  you  must  have  a  small  mouth." 

"  My  mouth — my  mouth,"  exclaimed  the  bewildered  prince. 
"  How  can  a  man  know  that  his  mouth  is  small  enough  to 
satisfy  a  lady  ?" 

"  By  raising  his  mask  and  giving  her  a  glimpse  of  it,"  said 
the  white  mask. 

"Mouth  for  mouth,"  said  the  prince,  laughing.  "Raise 
your  mask  sufficiently  to  satisfy  me  of  the  mouth  of  my 
goddess  and  I  will  do  the  same." 

"  You    have    no    right    to    impose    conditions   upon    a 


STORMCLIFF.  307 

goddess.  I  demand  implicit  obedience.  Up  with  your 
mask." 

"  I  will  die  first,"  exclaimed  the  prince. 

"  Now  I  know,"  said  the  lady,  "  that  your  mouth  is  large. 
You  men  are  so  conceited,  that  if  you  had  a  small  mouth  you 
would  hasten  to  let  it  be  known.  I  know  you  think  your 
mouth  is  handsome — some  foolish  girls  have  told  you  so." 

"I  don't  allow  girls  to  tell  me  such  things,"  said  the 
prince.  "  I  never  hear  any  lady's  voice  but  yours.  It  is  so 
sweet  and  musical,  it  rings  in  my  ears  like  a  silver  bell.  I 
would  only  listen  to  you.  One  word  from  you  in  praise 
would  thrill  my  heart." 

"  Nonsense !"  exclaimed  the  white  mask.  "  How  many 
girls  have  you  said  the  same  thing  to  within  a  year  ?" 

"  Not  one,"  said  the  prince,  emphatically. 

"  Don't  think  to  deceive  me,"  was  the  response.  "  Do 
you  know  what  I  have  heard  ?" 

"  How  could  I  ?" 

"  Do  you  wish  to  know  what  I  have  heard  ?" 

"Yes  !  indeed,  only  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  your  sweet 
voice  again." 

"  I  heard  that  you  had  proposed  marriage  to  three  ladies 
within  as  many  weeks." 

The  prince  was  uneasy  under  his  disguise,  for  he  made  no 
answer.  Then  he  said : 

"  If  I  had  been  guilty  of  such  an  act,  my  subjects  ought  to 
behead  me.  Indeed  I  feel  affronted  at  such  a  charge." 

"Don't  write  your  own  sentence.  You  should  be  be 
headed  sure  enough,  for  you  did  it." 

"  If  I  could  prove  to  you  that  it  was  a  false  charge,  what 
would  you  do  ?" 

"  Follow  you  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,"  said  the  white 
mask,  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  I  know  you,"  said  the  prince,  the  sigh  confirming  his 
suspicion  that  it  was  the  lady  he  had  been  looking  for  the 
whole  evening. 


308  STOKMCLIFF. 

"  No  !  you  don't,"  said  the  lady  in  a  low  tone. 

"  Yes  !  I  do  ;  and  I  love  you  better  than  any  woman  was 
ever  loved  before.  Don't  you  think  the  instincts  of  my 
heart  can  tell  me  who  you  are?" 

"  Alas !  if  I  could  only  trust  you,"  sighed  the  lady  again. 

"  Come  with  me — come  with  me,"  said  the  prince,  ener 
getically.  "  I  have  been  looking  for  you,  sweetest,  the 
whole  evening.  I  have  had  no  enjoyment  till  this  moment. 
Oh !  how  cruelly  you  have  treated  me  for  a  whole  year : 
snubbing  me  on  every  occasion — taking  pride  in  exhibiting 
to  strangers  how  much  you  despised  me.  And  I  see  it  all 
now,  and  I  forgive  you.  Oh  !  Kate,  how  could  you  believe 
such  a  falsehood  ?" 

"  Hush  !"  said  the  white  mask,  "  you  will  be  overheard. 
Don't  pronounce  my  name  again." 

"  Then  come  with  me,"  said  the  prince.  "  Never  mind 
the  next  dance.  We  will  walk  in  the  gardens  where  no  one 
can  hear  us.  Will  you  go  confidently  with  me  once  more  ?" 

"  I  fear  I  had  better  not,"  said  the  white  mask  dubiously. 
"I  do  doubt  you  ;  but  it  is  painful  to  me  to  do  so." 

"  Go  but  for  one  moment.  Go,  I  entreat  of  you.  I  will 
explain  everything  there." 

"  Well,"  said  the  lady,  reluctantly.  Then,  as  she  took  his 
arm,  she  said :  "  We  had  better  go  out  through  the  con 
necting-hall,  where  I  can  get  a  shawl.  I  am  not  as  strong 
as  I  was  a  year  ago." 

They  passed  out  near  the  silver  memorial  of  the  burning 
city,  after  the  white  mask  had  secured  a  shawl  which  the 
prince  flung  over  his  arm.  The  night  was  brilliant  with 
moonlight,  and  they  concluded  to  leave  the  illuminations 
of  the  gardens  behind  them,  and  travel  on  towards  the 
rustic  bridge,  hallowed  in  their  minds  by  the  strolls  and 
associations  of  the  last  October  which  they  had  passed 
at  "The  Glen."  The  lady  whispered  once  or  twice 
in  remonstrance,  at  the  great  distance  he  was  conducting 
her  from  the  mansion  and  from  the  masqueraders  in  tho 


STOKMCLIFF.  309 

gardens.  He,  however,  prevailed  upon  her  to  go  as  far 
as  the  seats  under  the  pines  near  the  bridge,  promising  that 
their  absence  from  the  ball  should  not  be  prolonged  beyond 
a  quarter  of  an  hour. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

"  WHY  don't  you  drop  that  disguise  of  your  voice  ?  I 
know  you,  Kate  Angier,  perfectly  well,  and  that  tone  can  no 
longer  deceive  me,"  said  the  prince,  as  they  seated  themselves 
on  a  rustic  bench  under  the  pines  bordering  the  brook.  The 
moonbeams  fluttered  through  the  dense  foliage  upon  his 
companion's  white  robe,  and  glistened  from  the  sacrificial 
blade  of  steel  she  carried  in  her  hand.  She  was  silent  for  a 
few  seconds.  Then  heaving  a  sigh,  she  said : 

"  I  have  several  reasons  why  I  choose  to  disguise  my 
voice.  In  the  first  place,  I  am  not  certain  that  you  really 
recognise  me.  In  the  second  place,  I  wish  to  hear  your  con 
fession.  You  have  called  me  away  from  the  dancers  to  satisfy 
me  that  you  love  Kate  Angier.  Suppose  that  I  am  not  she, 
but  Lucretia  Rogers.  What  then  ?" 

"  Then  I  wish  to  make  to  Lucretia  Rogers  the  decla 
ration  that  T  love  Kate  Angier  better  than  any  woman 
alive.  That  since  my  wife  died  I  have  never  breathed  love 
into  the  ear  of  any  woman  but  Kate  Angier,  and  that  if  I 
speak  falsely  I  call  upon  the  wrath  of  Heaven  to  destroy  me." 

The  white  mask  laughed  heartily.  There  was  the  keenest 
vein  of  irony  in  her  tone  as  she  answered : 

"  You  are  a  brave  man.  You  have  staked  everything  upon 
a  single  cast  of  the  die,  to  win  your  purpose  and  secure  love 
and  confidence.  Oh,  what  a  fearless  player  you  are  ?" 

"  I  am  no  player,  but  an  earnest  man.  I  never  have  loved, 
I  never  can  love  any  one  but  Kate  Angier." 

The  white  mask  laughed  immoderately  at  the  earnest  tones 
of  the  prince.  Controlling  her  merriment,  she  said  : 


310  STORMCLIFF. 

"  You  are  a  prince,  indeed,  but  it  is  the  prince  of  humbug. 
You  are  incapable  of  a  real  love,  such  a  love  as  a  woman 
values.  You  have  no  more  stability  of  purpose  in  regard  to 
woman  than  a  butterfly.  It  is  whispered,  moreover^  that 
you  are  not  a  proper  associate  for  ladies.  Of  course,  you 
will  call  this  slander  and  demand  my  authority.  Such  men 
as  you  always  have  a  virtuous  indignation  at  such  charges 
being  made  against  you,  and  demand  authority,  authority." 
She  laughed  bitterly,  scornfully,  her  words  stinging  him 
like  vipers. 

"Well,"  said  he  angrily,  "what  would  you  have  me 
do  when  such  things  are  trumped  up  against  me  by 
bitterness  and  falsehood  ?" 

"  Admit  their  truth,  and  then  hide  yourself  from  the 
society  of  the  upright,"  was  the  cool,  contemptuous  reply. 

"  Kate  Angier,  you  are  vindictive  in  the  extreme.  You  deny 
justice  to  the  innocent.  Some  day  God  may  deny  it  to  you.'* 

"  Ha,  ha !"  laughed  his  companion,  "  the  infidel  and  the 
sceptic  invokes.  Deity.  How  consistent  you  are !  You  who 
have  built  up  a  rival  altar  against  the  most  High  God. 
But  I  defy  you,"  she  added  sternly,  "  to  prove  your  inno 
cence  of  these  charges.  Will  you  acknowledge  your  o\vn 
handwriting  when  you  see  it,  or  will  you  pronounce  it  a 
forgery  as  all  men  like  you  invariably  do  ?" 

"  Oh,  Kate,  how  bitter  you  are.  I  will  do  anything  to 
satisfy  you  that  I  am  not  altogether  unworthy  of  you.  Give 
me  my  handwriting ;  I  demand  it  fearlessly." 

"Will  you  promise  upon  your  honor,  or  whatever  quality 
you  really  do  possess,  that  you  will  return  it  to  me  ? — that 
you  will  not  attempt  to  keep  it  from  me,  and  that  you  will 
not  attempt  to  destroy  it?  " 

"I  swear  it! "  said  the  prince,  solemnly,  confident  that  he 
had  never  committed  himself  on  paper,  and  that  notwith 
standing  the  efforts  and  arts  of  the  year  before,  which  Kate 
Angier  and  Miss  Rogers  had  employed,  he  could  not  be 
opposed  with  a  single  line  of  writing. 


STORMCL1FF.  311 

"  Come,  then,"  said  the  white  mask,  "  out  into  the  open 
moonlight.  Can  you  read  by  moonlight  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"  Well,  come  on,  then ;  and  if  you  did  not  write  what  I 
have  possession  of,  then  Kate  Angier — if  I  am  she — will 
marry  you." 

"  Kate,  I  am  sure  of  you  this  time,"  said  the  prince,  with 
an  exultant  air,  as  she  took  his  arm  and  walked  towards  the 
gardens  and  the  open  moonlight. 

Arriving  at  a  favorable  locality  behind  a  garden  hedge, 
where  the  eye  could  behold  the  moon  sailing  upwards  in  un 
veiled  splendor,  the  priestess  paused  and  thrust  her  hand  into 
her  bosom,  and  drawing  forth  a  folded  paper,  handed  it  to 
the  prince,  and  exclaimed  : 

"There!  read  that,  and  deny  your  handwriting  if  you 
dare !" 

He  opened  the  paper,  and  two  dark  ribbons  fluttered  out 
upon  one  corner  of  the  document,  held  to  the  paper  by  a 
large  seal  of  wax.  He  glanced  over  the  heading.  The  docu 
ment,  in  his  own  handwriting,  read  thus  : 

"In  order  that  my  life  may  not  be  taken  by  violence, 
which  is  threatened,  and  for  which  violence  I  fear  no  jury 
of  my  countrymen  will  find  my  murderer  guilty,  I  make  the 
following  confession  and  promise.  The  penalty  of  failing  in 
my  promise  will  be  death,  and  I  know  it.  Under  the  pro 
mise  of  marriage  I  ruined  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Baltimore's 
sister — Mr.  Baltimore,  I  mean,  who  has  present  possession  of 
*  The  Glen.'  She  was  my  ward,  appointed  by  will ;  and  1 
know  that  I  ought  to  die.  Upon  condition  that  he  will  spare 
my  life,  I  solemnly  swear  that  he  shall  marry  my  daughter 
Grace  whenever  and  wherever  he  shall  please  to  do  so. 

"NICHOLAS  TJRAVER." 
N. 

SEAL. 

T. 


312  STORMCLIFF. 

When  he  recognised  the  handwriting  of  the  first  two  lines 
he  uttered  a  cry  of  anguish,  and  then  made  a  quick  move- 
vent  to  place  the  document  under  his  princely  mantle.  But 
the  white  mask,  with  a  dexterous  dart  of  her  sacrificial  knife, 
pierced  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  he  let  the  paper  drop. 
Instantly  she  regained  possession  of  it,  and  thrusting  it  into 
her  bosom,  stoxl  upon  the  defensive,  with  the  altar  weapon 
glittering  in  the  moonlight.  She  remained  silent  and  watch 
ing  him  as  he  staunched  the  blood  in  his  palm  with  his  hand 
kerchief.  The  wound  was  not  dangerous,  but  he  turned  very 
pale  under  his  mask,  unable  to  explain  a  word  of  the  docu 
ment.  He  was  completely  foiled,  and  his  usual  self-possession 
deserted  him.  She  held  the  proof  of  his  infamy,  and  all 
hopes  of  gaining  her  were  lost.  At  length,  after  binding  up 
the  wound,  he  looked  at  the  beautiful  image  in  white  who 
stood  so  tragically  before  him  in  the  moonlight,  and  said, 
calmly : 

"  Do  you  propose  to  make  a  public  exhibition  of  that  paper 
to  the  world  ?  " 

"  No !  your  ro/al  highness,"  was  the  sneering  response  of 
the  white  mask. 

"What,  then,  will  the  priestess  do  with  it?  Offer  it  to 
the  chaste  goddess  on  your  altar?  " 

"  No !  '•  said  the  white  mask,  fiercely ;  "  keep  it  to  torment 
your  life  and  protect  women  from  you." 

"  I  shall  leave  these  parts,"  was  the  cool  reply.  "  You 
will  hardly  tramp  the  world  after  me." 

"  The  vengeance  of  God  will  follow  you.  Hear  me  once 
more  pronounce  upon  you  the  cui-se  of  a  broken  heart : 

"  May  your  bright  and  beautiful  ones  perish  by  violence  ; 
and  your  name  be  the  symbol  of  terror  for  all  time  !  " 

The  prince  started  back  with  a  shudder  of  fear. 

"  What  voice  is  that  ?  Have  the  tombs  an  outlet,  that 
that  voice  arises  to  curse  me  ?  " 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  "  shouted  the  white  mask  in  phrensy.  "  It 
was  I  cursed  you.  And  I  met  your  boy  on  the  highway  and 


STORMCLTFF.  3-13 

throttled  him  to  death.  Believe  me,  you  will  all  perish  by 
violence,  for  I  am  a  mother,  and  I  have  cursed  you.  When 
the  lightnings  of  God's  wrath  come,  may  you  and  your  habi 
tation  be  destroyed,  and  your  name  be  the  symbol  of  terror 
for  all  time  !"  She  tore  away  the  white  mask,  and  the  glar 
ing  eyes  of  the  lunatic  mother  were  revealed.  With  a  yell 
of  defiance,  she  brandished  the  knife  of  the  priestess  in  his 
face,  and  then  shouting :  "  Tremble  when  the  lightning  falls ; 
tremble !  "  she  darted  off  along  the  garden  walk  and  van 
ished  in  the  direction  of  the  pine-bordered  glen. 

Dreamily,  dreamily  sounded  the  distant  music  as  he  stood 
there  alone.  He  feared  to  follow  her  to  attempt  the  reco 
very  of  the  fatal  document.  The  chances  were  that  she  was 
already  following  one  of  the  circuitous  paths  around  to  the 
house  to  rejoin  the  dancers.  It  would  require  cunning  and 
tact  to  regain  the  paper.  She  must  be  suddenly  surprised 
and  arrested  as  a  lunatic,  to  prevent  the  agreement  passing 
into  other  hands  than  his  own.  He  reflected  in  silence  for  a 
few  seconds  what  would  be  his  best  plan  in  returning  to  the 
revel.  Finally  he  decided  to  steal  as  secretly  as  possible  to 
the  costume  room  of  the  gentlemen,  and  exchange  his  dress 
for  one  which  she  would  not  recognise  upon  his  reentering 
the  ball.  In  pursuance  of  this  purpose,  he  concealed  the 
shawl  of  the  priestess  under  his  mantle  and  walked  rapidly 
on  through  the  garden  towards  the  house.  Maskers  were 
promenading  along  the  paths,  and  as  he  passed  one  lady,  he 
heard  her  exclaiming : 

"  There  goes  the  elegant  prince  of  the  night — what  has  he 
done  with  the  priestess  ?  " 

He  soon  entered  the  connecting  hall,  and  passing  carelessly 
along  the  circular  dining-room  where  the  masqueraders  were 
dancing  merrily,  he  found  his  way  to  the  dressing-rooms 
above,  and  proceeded  to  examine  the  costumes  in  the  closets, 
which  were  carefully  and  civilly  guarded  and  kept  in  order 
by  the  servants  selected  for  that  purpose.  He  succeeded  in 
finding  the  dress  of  a  harlequin  which  fitted  him  accurately, 

14 


314  6TORMCLIFF. 

and  exchanging  his  mask  for  a  black  one,  he  mounted  the 
cap  and  bells,  and  hastened  to  the  apartments  below.  The 
same  unflagging  revelry  was  holding  sway,  and  he  commenced 
to  act  out  his  new  character  to  perfection.  Laughter  greeted 
his  droll  remarks  from  every  side  ;  and  he  passed  on,  jesting 
with  every  one  till  he  arrived  once  more  at  the  grand  dan 
cing  hall  of  marble.  He  had  noticed  that  a  gentleman  in 
the  dressing-room  immediately  donned  the  prince's  suit  which 
he  had  thrown  aside,  and,  perfectly  secure  from  recognition 
by  this  double  change,  he  now  endeavored  to  trace  out 
the  priestess  again.  It  was  a  cruel  satisfaction  to  him  to 
reflect  that  there  was  a  possibility  of  the  gentleman  in  his 
rejected  dress  of  the  prince  being  some  time  startled  during 
the  evening  by  a  sharp  thrust  of  the  knife  of  the  lunatic 
priestess.  He  resolved  to  keep  her  in  sight,  in  order  that  he 
might  take  advantage  of  any  such  startling  episode  to  be 
come  one  of  those  who  should  arrest  her,  and  thus  secure 
the  fatal  paper  she  carried  in  her  bosom  before  it  could  be 
read  by  others.  He  wandered  up  and  down  the  dancing- 
room  in  his  search  for  the  priestess  ;  and  bearing  also  in  his 
mind  his  former  purpose  of  finding  out  the  disguise  of  Miss 
Angier.  She  was  not,  it  appeared,  lost  to  him  after  all ;  and 
though  her  conduct  of  the  past  year  had  baffled  his  idea  of 
his  supreme  influence  over  women,  he  still  trusted  to  deceive 
her  and  regain  her  confidence  with  his  honeyed  tongue. 
But  as  he  strolled  back  and  forth,  entertaining  the  guests 
with  his  drollery,  and  occasionally  joining  capriciously  in  a 
dance,  the  recollection  of  the  mother's  curse  would  come 
back  to  him  in  terror,  and  an  undefinable  feeling  of  awe 
would  creep  over  him.  She  had  murdered  his  son,  then. 
Whose  death  would  she  compass  next  ?  Was  it  improbable 
that,  with  the  rare  tact  and  cunning  which  often  accompany 
insanity,  she  might  have  assumed  another  disguise  by  this 
time  herself,  and  be  prowling  about  among  the  dancers, 
watching  her  opportunity  to  bury  her  knife  in  him  when  she 
should  succeed  in  identifying  him  again  ?  He  knew  it  was 


STOEMCLIFP.  315 

not,  and  he  remained  upon  his  guard  daring  the  whole  time 
that  he  was  searching  so  diligently  for  Miss  Angler.  How 
had  the  lunatic  escaped  from  the  asylum  ?  He  had  believed 
the  rumor  that  she  was  dead.  How  had  she  gained  admit 
tance  at  the  front  door  ?  Had  Nora  connived  at  her  coming  ? 
It  was  possible ;  but  not  probable.  With  all  his  vindictive- 
ness,  he  was  obliged  to  admit  the  integrity  and  general  pro 
priety  of  the  old  nurse's  conduct.  She  would  hardly  admit 
a  wild  lunatic  to  her  friend  Grace's  entertainment.  But  how 
had  the  priestess  gained  possession  of  the  terrible  paper  by 
which  he  had  sold  his  daughter  to  old  Baltimore  ?  That 
document  surely  had  been  in  the  power  of  Nora.  Another 
fact  was  singular  enough  to  his  studying  mind. 

The  white  mask  had  charged  him  with  having  offered  him 
self  to  three  young  ladies  within  as  many  weeks.  The  charge 
had  been  so  correct  and  truthful  that  he  had  been  at  a  loss 
for  a  reply.  The  three  were  Miss  Angier,  Miss  Rogers,  and 
the  unfortunate  Marie.  Who  could  have  surmised  thus  cor 
rectly  and  informed  the  lunatic  ?  He  was  puzzled  by  these 
reflections ;  terrified  by  the  repetition  of  the  curse  which  had 
haunted  his  memory  for  years,  and  seemed  so  often  to  ob 
tain  the  sanction  of  Heaven.  But  notwithstanding  all  the 
anxieties  of  that  night  of  revelry,  he  was  still  as  indefati 
gable,  as  earnest  in  his  search  for  the  young  lady  who  had 
tormented  his  pride  and  conceit  for  more  than  a  year,  as  if 
she  were  the  only  being  upon  whom  his  attentions  had  ever 
been  centred.  She  should  love  him  and  trust  him,  if  the 
accomplishment  of  his  purpose  cost  him  the  worry  and  in 
genuity  of  years.  But  wander,  and  dance,  and  converse  as 
he  might,  he  could  not  detect  her  under  her  mask ;  neither 
did  the  figure  of  the  pagan  priestess  reward  his  vigilant  eye. 

While  Nicholas  Traver  continued  his  double  and  fruitless 
search,  a  wizard  had  arisen  upon  the  scene.  A  fortune 
teller  of  marvellous  power  and  insight  was  gradually  work 
ing  his  way  through  the  different  rooms,  and  everywhere 
eliciting  ejaculations  of  surprise  by  the  wonderful  accuracy 


316  STOBMCLIFF. 

with  which  he  informed  the  masks  who  consulted  him  of 
their  secret  thoughts  and  of  the  objects  of  their  love  and 
friendship.  Occasionally  he  would  break  forth  in  the  recita 
tion  of  extemporaneous  verses  appropriate  to  those  who 
sought  evidences  of  his  power,  and  detailing  to  some  of  his 
listeners  the  several  costumes  they  had  put  off  and  on  during 
the  evening.  Believing  themselves  to  have  been  remarkably 
dexterous  in  avoiding  discovery,  they  were  startled  to  learn 
that  they  had  been  tracked  to  the  dressing-rooms  and  their 
changes  of  costume  were  known.  A  clamor  being  raised 
as  to  the  accuracy  of  the  wizard's  statements,  two  or  three 
of  the  guests  were  selected  by  the  conjuror;  and  after  de 
scribing  the  dresses  which  they  had  worn  to  the  ball  and 
the  changes  of  costume  they  had  made  during  the  evening, 
he  demanded  of  them  by  their  proper  names  to  unmask,  and 
then,  testify  as  to  the  accuracy  of  what  he  had  stated  regard 
ing  the  past  and  the  present. 

The  masks  were  removed,  and,  to  the  surprise  of  the 
parties  themselves  and  the  masks  standing  around,  he  was 
proved  to  be  a  true  wizard.  Then,  with  a  haughty  accent 
of  command,  he  exclaimed : 

"  Clear  the  way  and  let  the  prince  of  wizards  pass.  With 
such  insight  to  the  unknown  of  the  past  and  present,  who 
shall  dispute  my  truth  in  regard  to  the  future  ?  Clear  the 
way!"  Amid  shouts  of  applause  and  exclamations  of  sur 
prise  he  moved  on  with  dignity,  draped  in  his  loose  robe  of 
blue  ornamented  with  flames  and  fiends  in  red,  and  waving 
his  long  sceptre  before  him.  Pausing  occasionally  before 
some  timid  maiden  whose  mask  would  seem  effectually  to 
conceal  her  age,  he  would  recite  exquisite  verses  of  her 
future  fate,  and  then  pass  on  with  a  chuckling  laugh  at  the 
surprise  and  merriment  he  had  occasioned. 

At  length,  in  the  midst  of  his  stately  perambulations 
through  the  grand  hall  or  colonnade,  where  the  dancing  had 
temporarily  ceased,  he  was  confronted  by  a  lady-mask  who 
disputed  his  power  and  defied  him  to  declare  who  she  was. 


BTORMCLIFF.  317 

She  was  an  exquisite  figure,  of  medium  height.  Her  grace 
ful  dancing  had  been  repeatedly  commented  upon  during 
the  night;  but  no  one  felt  satisfied  of  her  identity.  The 
character  she  had  assumed  was  that  of  the  "  White  Lady  of 
Avenel."  Her  slight  waist  was  circled  by  a  golden  zone, 
and  the  extraordinary  luxuriance  of  her  golden  hair  covered 
her  snowy  dress  like  a  mantle.  Her  mask  was  white  wire 
of  remarkable  fineness.  Thus  far  she  had  eluded  detection. 

"  Who  am  I,  false  wizard,  and  deceiver  of  mortals  ?"  was 
the  question  of  the  white  lady,  as  she  swept  her  misty  train 
up  to  his  presence. 

"The  wizard's  dream,"  was  the  solemn  response,  as  he 
waved  his  sceptre  slowly  above  her  head. 

"  Answer  me  not  in  riddles,"  was  the  sharp  retort,  as  she 
stamped  her  little  white  slipper  upon  the  marble  floor.  "  I 
knew  your  power  was  limited;  your  vaunted  insight  is  gone. 
Who  am  I  ?" 

The  spectators  who  crowded  up  around  the  two,  observed 
the  faintest  indication  of  a  tremor  in  his  voice  as  the  wizard 
repeated  these  lines,  emphasizing  the  word  dark  distinctly 
and  slowly : 

"  Thy  loveliness  haunts  me  by  day  and  by  night, 
Stealing  over  my  soul  like  holy  starlight ; 
I  think  of  thee  waking,  and  dream  of  thee  oft, 
With  thy  dark  loving  eyes  and  dark  hair  so  soft. 

"  A  voice  ever  whispered  in  years  that  are  fled, 
Of  a  vision  to  come  of  an  ideal  head, 
So  rare  in  its  beauty  and  magical  power, 
That  my  soul  would  become  a  slave  from  that  hour. 

"  How  little  I  dreamed  in  my  careless  stroll, 
Of  meeting  that  angel,  that  light  of  my  soul; 
Who  should  fling  open  wide  the  bright  gate  of  dreams, 
And  point  to  the  altar  where  quenchless  fire  gleams  ? 

{i  But  that  vision  has  come,  and  now  evermore 
My  life  shall  resemble  the  surf  on  the  shore, 


318  STOEMCLIFF. 

That  sighs  and  then  struggles,  but  struggles  in  vain, 
To  recover  its  place  upon  the  blue  main. 

"  Yet  welcome  the  unrest  of  sunshine  and  shower, 
That  mingles  the  smiles  and  the  tears  in  an  hour; 
And  welcome  the  sadness,  the  faintness  and  gloom, 
The  fluttering  of  heart,  or  chill  of  the  tomb. 

"  To  know  thou  art  worthy  of  worship  and  love, 
And  purer  than  yon  star  that  gleams  from  above ; 
To  know  that  the  homage  of  thousands  is  thine 
Shall  soothe  the  wild  yearnings  of  this  heart  of  mine." 

"That  is  all  very  pretty  and  very  sentimental,  Mr.  Wizard," 
exclaimed  the  white  lady ;  "  but  I  appeal  to  the  company  if 
it  is  not  a  palpable  evasion  of  my  question  ?  Dark  hair,  in 
deed  !  Look  at  my  tresses — golden  as  the  sun  !  Ha !  ha ! 
the  wizard  is  baffled ;  the  mighty  is  fallen.  Give  me  your 
sceptre ;  it  has  passed  from  you  by  right." 

Unmindful  of  the  lady's  taunts,  the  sceptre  still  waved 
above  her  head  as  he  pronounced  these  words : 

"  Beneath  the  golden  stream  as  it  flows, 
Lurks  raven  hair  of  the  Baltimore  rose." 

"  Will  you  stake  your  sceptre  and  mask  against  my  zone 
and  mask  ?"  said  the  white  lady,  eagerly. 

"  Mrs.  Baltimore,  I  will,"  was  the  calm  and  confident  re 
sponse  of  the  wizard. 

The  white  lady  removed  her  mask,  and  said :  "  Your  power 
is  beyond  all  comprehension.  You  have  won." 

The  laughter  of  the  company  greeted  the  dark  eyes  of  the 
mistress  of  "  The  Glen,"  as  she  presented  her  mask  and  zone 
to  the  wizard,  and  hastened  away  from  the  hall  to  change 
her  dress.  The  conjuror  appeared  to  be  satisfied  with  his 
success  in  divining  the  secrets  of  others,  for  instantly  he 
flung  aside  his  mask  and  sceptre,  appeared  to  rend  his  robe 
asunder  before  it  fell  to  the  floor,  and  with  a  shout  of  ex- 


STOBMCLIFF. 


319 


ultation  stood  before  the  surprised  group  of  revellers  in  the 
barbaric  costume  of  Attila,  King  of  the  Huns,  and  still  dis 
guised  by  a  mask.  Flinging  his  discarded  dress  into  a  side 
apartment,  he  joined  the  dance  which  was  about  to  com 
mence.  He  became  at  once  the  centre  of  speculation,  but 
successfully  he  retained  his  incognito. 

Mrs.  Baltimore,  immediately  upon  leaving  the  grand  hall, 
turned  into  a  small  closet,  of  which  she  held  the  key.  Lock 
ing  the  door  behind  her,  she  placed  her  hands  upon  a  mar 
ble  slab  which  held  two  silver  basins  for  washing  purposes, 
and  by  a  slight  exertion  of  strength  the  whole  stand  swung 
into  the  wall,  exposing  a  narrow  flight  of  steps  leading  down 
into  the  cellar.  Before  leaving  the  steps  she  put  up  her 
hands  and  swung  the  marble  washstand  back  to  its  place. 
Then  rapidly  she  descended  to  the  floor  of  the  cellar,  and 
aided  by  the  faint  lights  always  kept  burning  below  hur 
ried  on  through  the  brick  halls  till  she  reached  the  cellar 
under  the  old  house.  Here  she  adjusted  her  key  to  a  small 
point  of  iron  in  the  stone  foundation,  and  lo  !  a  part  of  the 
wall  itself  moved  inwards,  exposing  another  secret  stairway 
leading  entirely  up  to  her  own  suite  of  rooms  in  the  second 
story.  It  was  one  of  the  concealed  ways  built  for  her  by 
Nora,  in  response  to  her  directions  from  Europe,  and  was 
masked  in  her  bath-roorn  above  by  a  similar  marble  stand  to 
the  one  which  had  furnished  her  a  secret  way  into  the  cel 
lar.  Carefully  closing  the  foundation-door  behind  her  she 
ascended  in  darkness  to  her  own  apartments  and  emerged 
'under  the  marble  slab.  Her  maid,  who  was  seated  in  her 
boudoir,  was  startled  by  the  appearance  of  her  mistress 
from  the  bath-room,  but  recollected  at  once  that  she  might 
have  entered  that  room  from  the  hall.  Several  costumes 
and  masks  were  spread  upon  Mrs.  Baltimore's  bed,  and  the 
maid  was  directed  to  array  her  mistress  at  once  in  a  new  dis 
guise,  as  the  old  one  had  been  discovered.  The  golden  man 
tle  of  hair  was  flung  aside.  The  fastenings  of  the  lady's  real 
hair  were  removed  as  she  stood  before  her  long  mirror,  and 


320  STORMCLTFF. 

down  fell  the  luxuriant  mass  of  dark  tresses  almost  to  the 
carpet. 

"Don't  tremble  so,  my  lady,"  ejaculated  the  maid,  as  she 
proceeded  to  array  her  mistress  anew  for  the  revel.  "It 
frightens  me  to  see  you  so  excited  and  trembling.  Dear, 
dear,  what  can  ail  you  ?  It  seems  like  I  could  hear  your 
heart  beat.  Is  it  the  finding  of  you  out  that  makes  you 
tremble  so?  La!  me,  I  wouldn't  mind  that.  Some  peo 
ple  allers  has  to  be  caught  in  such  times  as  this.  It's  a 
lucky  thing  you  wan't  caught  afore.  Hannah,  who  has 
been  stealing  looks  at  you  from  the  winder  outside,  says  you 
was  making  all  kinds  of  mischief  of  the  folks  as  didn't  know 
you.  I  think  Hannah  might  come  and  take  me  place  just  a 
bit  till  I  could  look  at  'em  all  meself.  La !  me,  don't  trem 
ble  so.  Are  you  feeling  well,  ma'am.  ?" 

"  Yes,  yes  !  you  silly  thing,  I  am  well  enough,  but  I  have 
been  running.  Do  you  know,  that  man  disguised  as  a  wiz 
ard  exposed  me  before  a  crowd  of  people  and  took  away 
my  mask  and  zone  ?  Draw  that  tighter — I  can  stand  it  a 
good  deal  tighter  than  that.  Here — let  me  show  you — that 
must  meet  all  the  way.  Do  you  think  I  am  gouig  down 
there  with  a  figure  like  a  washerwoman  ?  Why,  it  isn't 
near  as  tight  as  my  every-day  dresses.  Put  your  hand 
under  here,  and  you  will  see  how  loose  it  is." 

"•  Providential !"  exclaimed  the  maid,  as  she  obeyed  the 
last  direction.  "It  is  too  loose  for  you  altogether;  you'll 
have  to  put  on  another  waist.  Why  don't  you  wear  that 
dress  ;  that  '11  be  sweeter  nor  this." 

"Oh!  mercy!"  exclaimed  her  mistress,  "I'll  never  be 
dressed.  I  must  find  out  who  that  wizard  is.  I'm  so  afraid 
he  will  change  his  dress,  and  then  I  can't  track  him.  Do 
hurry.  Yes  !  put  that  on,  or  anything — only  hurry." 

"  Indeed,  my  lady,  I'm  doing  the  best  I  kin  ;  but  it  takes 
time  to  fix  such  queer  garments  as  these.  Be  patient, 
only  one  minute  now — there!  that's  together.  Now  you 
begin  to  look  perfectly  splendid.  Oh,  my !  how  your  eyes 


STORMCLIFF.  321 

are  a  glistenin'.  And  who  do  you  think  the  wizard  is,  that 
you're  so  mighty  curious  to  find  him  out  ?" 

"  Never  mind.     He's  a  gentleman." 

"  Of  course,  ma'am ;  I  knew  that.  Wizards  is  all  gen 
tlemen,  or  men — 'tall  events,  they're  not  women." 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE  new  costume  was  at  last  adjusted,  and  she  stood  before 
the  mirror  surveying  herself  and  holding  a  yellow  satin  mask 
in  her  hand.  She  was  the  "  Queen  of  the  Fairies,"  arrayed 
in  golden  satin,  with  a  long  train  studded  with  large  single 
diamonds,  which  flashed  brilliantly  at  every  movement.  She 
wore  a  crown  of  gold  of  open  work  most  delicately  traced 
like  the  lines  of  a  spider's  web.  Her  hair  was  concealed  by 
a  lace  veil.  Her  bust  and  arms  were  disguised  by  the  clouds 
of  white  illusion  which  enveloped  her;  but  one  gloved  hand 
was  apparent,  holding  her  sceptre  composed  entirely  of 
jewels. 

"Do  you  think  they  will  know  me,  Clorinde  ?"  she  said  to 
the  maid. 

"No  more  than  they  would  an  angel  just  dropped  out  of 
heaven,"  was  the  complimentary  response. 

Her  mistress  appeared  to  study  a  few  seconds  in  silence,  as 
the  maid  moved  entirely  around  her,  expressing  her  admira 
tion.  Then  she  said,  as  if  with  a  sudden  purpose : 

"  I  would  like  so  much  to  entrust  you  with  a  mission  for 
me.  Can  you  keep  a  secret? — keep  close-mouthed  if  I  will 
dress  you  up,  and  send  you  down  into  the  dancing  hall  in 
disguise  ?  " 

"  Bless  your  sweet  heart !"  exclaimed  the  maid,  in  raptures, 
"  wouldn't  I  give  a  pretty  penny  to  go  into  that  beautiful 
hall  and  wear  a  mask,  and  all.  Oh  !  Mrs.  Baltimore,  can  you 
be  askin'  me  if  I  kin  keep  secrets  ?  Did  I  ever  breathe  a 

14* 


322  STOIIMCLIFF. 

single  word  that  you  trusted  me  with?  Let  me  go  for  you 
and  I'll  do  everything  you  wants  of  me,  and " 

"  There — that  is  enough.  I  will  let  you  go,  if  you  think 
you  can  play  your  part  well  enough." 

"  It's  me  tongue  I'm  afearin',  ma'am.  Me  discourse  will 
show  that  I'm  not  a  lady." 

"No!  that  will  be  just  the  thing.  I'll  dress  you  like  a 
lady's  maid,  and  they'll  think  your  talk  is  put  on  for  a  dis 
guise.  You'll  be  the  most  disguised  person  in  the  ball,  for 
they'll  never  dream  of  your  being  a  sure-enough  maid.  You 
may  go,  if  you'll  promise  to  say  nothing  to  the  servants  or 
anybody  else  about  what  happens,  or  about  your  attending 
the  ball." 

"I'll  promise  you  on  my  bended  knees,"  declared  the 
maid,  half-crazy  with  delight.  "  Oh !  but  won't  I  play  me 
part ;  jest  trust  me  with  anything.  I'll  be  the  fine  lady's 
maid,  that  will  whisper  me  lady's  secrets  into  the  ears  of  the 
gentlemen — that  I  will." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  tell  any  secrets,  only  to  find  some 
out,"  said  her  mistress. 

"Oh!  ma'am,"  exclaimed  Clorinde,  in  an  ofiended  tone, 
"I  wouldn't  tell  your  secrets ;  you  might  know  that.  Only 
pretend  to  know  other  ladies'  secrets,  and  git  round  the 
gentlemen  that  way.  That's  what  I  mean." 

"  Yes !  that  will  do,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore.  "  Now  listen 
to  me.  The  chances  are,  that  some  ladies  who  know  I  was 
found  out  will  gather  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  or  near  them,  and 
look  to  see  what  new  dress  comes  down.  Now  I  am  deter 
mined  they  shall  not  know  me  in  that  way.  You  must  go 
down  first,  and  it  will  be  a  long  time  before  they  see  me 
come  down.  You  will  probably  be  taken  for  me  by  some  of 
them,  if  they  happen  to  be  on  the  lookout  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs.  But  you  go  right  on  and  play  the  lady's  maid. 
Never  mind  any  one  in  particular,  but  keep  right  on  till  you 
enter  the  grand  colonnade.  Look  about  you  for  the  wizard, 
the  man  in  a  blue  robe,  with  fire  and  devils  all  over  it.  Don't 


STOKMCLIFF.  323 

permit  him  to  leave  your  sight.  See  that  he  makes  no 
change  of  dress  that  you  can't  follow  up.  Keep  as  close  to 
him  as  you  can,  and  if  you  find  an  opportunity,  take  his  arm 
and  talk  to  him.  I  must  know  who  he  is.  If  you  will  find 
out  with  certainty  who  he  is — you  shall  own  the  brown  silk 
trimmed  with  black  velvet  that  I  wore  yesterday.  But  you 
must  be  very  sharp.  He  is  one  of  the  brightest  men  here 
to-night.  Can  you  stick  to  him  close,  and  find  out  who 
he  is?" 

"Trust  me,"  was  the  confident  response  of  the  maid. 
"I'll  own  that  brown  silk  long  afore  daylight.  And  you 
don't  wish  me,  ma'am,  to  tell  him  anything  for  you  ?" 

"  No,  indeed !"  said  her  mistress ;  "  only  find  out  who 
he  is." 

"I'll  do  that  thing,"  said  Clorinde,  nearly  frantic  with 
joy  at  the  idea  of  attending  the  ball. 

Mrs.  Baltimore  proceeded  at  once  to  array  Clorinde  as 
a  maid  in  attendance  upon  a  fine  lady.  The  girl  was 
delighted  with  her  new  appearance,  and  when  the  mask 
was  handed  her  she  commenced  her  performances,  bows, 
and  simpers,  and  "  my  lady  So-and-So  says." 

"  You  will  succeed,  Clorinde,  admirably,"  said  her  mistress ; 
"  now  off  with  you." 

The  maid  hastened  away ;  and,  descending  the  stairs,  was 
greeted,  as  her  mistress  had  anticipated,  by  the  remarks 
of  two  or  three  lady  masks. 

"  That  is  admirable,  Mrs.  Baltimore ;  we  know  you. 
You  will  cheat  everybody  else,  however ;  go  out  into  the 
dining-hall." 

The  maid  commenced  to  hum  a  rural  love-song,  and  bowing 
and  simpering  with  her  hands  thrust  into  the  pockets  of  her 
white  apron,  passed  along,  unmindful  of  their  fancied  recog 
nition.  But  a  gentleman  mask  was  also  on  the  watch  for  a 
new-comer  from  the  costume-rooms.  The  moment  the  maid 
had  passed  the  group  of  ladies,  he  stepped  forward,  and 
presenting  his  arm  to  her,  said  : 


824  STORMCLIFF. 

"  My  pretty  maid,  will  you  do  me  the  honor  of  walking 
with  me  ?" 

"  No,  thank'ee,"  said  the  girl ;  "  my  mistress  says  I'm  too 
giddy-headed  now,  with  all  me  beaux  ;  and  she  forbid  me  to 
walk  wid  any  man — perticklerly  wid  strangers." 

"  But  I'm  no  stranger,"  said  the  mask.  "  Look  at  me — 
everybody  knows  me — I'm  the  great  Attila,  King  of  the 
Huns — I  destroyed  cities  without  number." 

"  I  don't  care  if  you  did,"  said  the  maid ;  "  you  ain't  going 
to  destroy  me,  for  I  ain't  without  a  number — I  am  number 
one,  and  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  it,  too." 

"Ah,  you  sweet  creature — only  walk  with  me  a  few 
minutes." 

"  Get  out,"  was  the  unceremonious  response ;  "  my  mistress 
said  I  want  to  be  coaxed — and  I  don't  put  any  faith  in  your 
beinl  a  king — you  look  like  a  butcher,  with  that  great  big 
knife." 

The  magnificently  attired  King  of  the  Huns  roared  with 
laughter,  and  exclaimed  :  "  It's  a  short  step  from  the  sublime 
to  the  ridiculous,  I  know;  but  I  thought  my  dress  was 
stupendous,  annihilating,  and  awful  in  its  barbaric  splendor." 

"  What's  the  price  of  veal  ?"  was  the  contemptuous  reply 
of  the  maid. 

"  Come  with  me,  my  sweet  little  lamb,"  said  the  ancient 
butcher  of  mankind,  "  and  I  will  show  you  my  pretty  shop — 
there's  plenty  of  material  in  there  to  make  veal  of,  I  assure 
you.  Do  come !" 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  said  the  maid,  as  the  king  again 
offered  her  his  arm. 

"  Into  the  grand  dancing-hall,  you  pretty -looking  creature. 
Will  you  honor  me  by  taking  my  arm  ?" 

"That  is  the  very  place  I  want  to  go,"  said  Clorinde. 
"  I've  heard  there's  a  fortune-teller  in  there  as  knows  every 
blessed  thing." 

"  We'll  see  if  we  can  find  him,  if  you  will  take  my  arm," 
said  the  king. 


STOKMCLIFF.  325 

The  offer  was  accepted,  and  the  maid  passed  on  under  escort 
of  the  former  wizard,  who  felt  confident  he  was  conducting 
Mrs.  Baltimore  in  her  new  disguise.  What  was  the  surprise  of 
Clorinde  upon  reaching  the  grand  colonnade,  to  discover  that 
the  "  Queen  of  the  Fairies"  was  already  promenading  that 
hall  in  advance  of  her.  How,  in  the  name  of  miracles,  had 
her  mistress  succeeded  in  reaching  that  hall  in  advance  of 
her,  if  not  through  the  agency  of  real  fairy  power!  But  the 
maid  was  too  intent  upon  her  mission,  and  too  absorbed  by 
the  gallant  talk  of  her  companion,  to  notice  Mrs.  Baltimore 
long,  or  indulge  in  speculations  upon  her  marvellous  speed 
in  reaching  the  hall  first.  The  wizard  was  nowhere  to  be  seen, 
but  Attila  was  apparently  very  obliging  in  his  efforts  to 
track  him  out  for  her  contemplation.  Finding  at  last  that  the 
wizard  had  vanished,  she  consented  to  accompany  the  King 
of  the  Huns  to  the  gardens  where  the  fortune-teller  might  be 
promenading.  After  a  long  search,  the  maid  concluded  that 
the  wizard  must  have  changed  his  costume,  and  that  her 
anticipated  present  of  the  brown  silk  dress  would  prove  to  be 
mythical.  Under  these  depressing  circumstances  she  was  the 
more  easily  persuaded  to  accept  the  king's  offer  of  a  t£te-a- 
Ute  on  one  of  the  rustic  benches  of  the  garden. 

The  mistress  of  "The  Glen,"  in  the  meantime,  pursued  her 
own  search  for  the  wizard.  Seeing  her  maid  walking  about 
with  the  King  of  the  Huns,  she  supposed  she  was  still  obeying 
her  directions,  and  took  no  further  notice  of  her.  She  was 
persuaded  to  dance  once  by  a  Greek  sailor  who  offered  her 
his  arm.  When  the  dance  was  finished  she  asked  her 
partner  what  had  become  of  the  fortune-teller.  The  sailor 
expressed  his  ignorance  of  his  whereabouts,  but  offered  to 
assist  her  in  finding  him,  that  their  fortunes  might  be  fore 
told.  In  the  course  of  their  inquiries  through  the  rooms 
they  chanced  to  meet  a  lady  mask,  who  informed  them  that 
the  wizard  had  suddenly  transformed  himself  into  Attila. 
Mrs.  Baltimore  made  some  excuse  to  the  sailor  for  leaving 
him,  and  hastened  away  to  find  the  King  of  the  Huns,  whom 


326  STOKMCLIFF. 

she  recollected  her  maid  had  gone  off  with.  In  vain  did  she 
search  for  the  lost  couple.  They  were  in  none  of  the  dancing- 
rooms.  Then  she  traversed  the  gardens  slowly  and  alone. 
She  could  not  find  them  there,  and  returned  to  the  dancing- 
hall  of  marble.  As  she  ascended  the  step  from  the  connect 
ing-hall,  she  turned  to  look  over  her  shoulder.  She  espied 
her  maid  hastening  towards  her.  The  first  whisper  of  the 
servant  in  the  ear  of  her  mistress  was : 

"I  have  made  some  dreadful  mischief.  I  found  out  the 
wizard,  but  he  has  left  me  and  gone  off  very  angry." 

"  What  in  the  world  have  you  been  doing,  Clorinde  ?" 

"  Why,  ma'am,  you  know  you  said  I  must  play  my  part 
the  best  I  knowed  how,  and  I  did  it.  I  'sposed  the  way  was 
to  hide  anybody's  real  character,  and  make  believe  it  was 
somebody  else.  So  I  did  it." 

*'  And  who,  pray,  did  you  represent  yourself  to  be  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Baltimore. 

"  Why,  ma'am,  you  see,  I  made  out  first  as  if  I  was  a  lady's 
waitin'  maid.  And  the  gentleman  as  was  wid  me  played 
like  he  believed  I  was,  too.  Then,  byme-by,  he  asked  me  if 
I  wouldn't  like  to  walk  in  the  garden,  and  I  says  yes ;  'cause 
I  was  huntin'  for  the  wizard.  We  couldn't  find  the  wizard, 
hunt  high,  hunt  low.  Then  he  asked  me  what  made  me  so 
curious  to  find  the  wizard  ;  and  says  I,  '  'cause  I  likes  him.' 
*  Very  much  ?'  says  he.  *  Yes,'  says  I,  *  awful  much.'  Then 
he  asked  me  what  I'd  give  hirn  if  he'd  tell  me  who  the  wiz 
ard  was,  and  I  told  him  most  anything  he'd  ask.  And  what 
do  you  think,  ma'am,  he  did  ask  ?" 

"  A  kiss,  I'll  venture,"  said  her  mistress. 

"You've  guessed  it  exact,"  said  the  maid. 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore,  "  what  next  ?  You  didn't 
let  him  kiss  you — did  you,  you  huzzy  ?" 

"How  could  I  help  it,  ma'am?"  remonstrated  Clorinde. 
"  It  wud  be  the  means  of  telling  me  what  you  wanted  to 
know,  ma'am  ;  and  then,  ma'am,  I  was  thinkin'  of  me  brown 
silk  dress  with  the  velvet  trimmin's  that  I  was  to  have." 


.       STOKHCLIFF.  327 

"Oh,  you  good-for-nothing  thing!"  exclaimed  her  mis 
tress,  "have  you  no  more  sense  than  that?" 

The  maid  hung  her  head  abashed,  and  muttered :  "  It  was 
in  the  line  of  me  duty,  ma'am ;  it  was  to  obey  your  orders, 
ma'am,  and  find  out  who  the  wizard  was." 

"And  did  he  tell  you?" 

"  After  he'd  kissed  me,  ma'am — oh !  awful  hard — says  he, 
'  I'm  the  wizard  ;  I  changed  my  dress.'  Says  I,  '  Who  are 
you,  any  way  ?'  And  do  you  believe,  ma'am,  he  said  that 
was  a  second  question,  and  he  wouldn't  answer  it  without 
another  kiss." 

"  I  suppose  you  did  not  refuse  him  ?"  said  her  mistress. 
. " How  could  I  ma'am?  just  to  be  sure  who  he  was." 

"  Well,  go  on.     Did  he  tell  you,  then  ?" 

"This  is  the  answer  he  made,  ma'am;  says  he,  'I'm  a 
lawyer — that's  who  I  am.' " 

"And  then  I  suppose  he  wanted  another  kiss  for  another 
answer.  Oh,  Clorinde,  how  could  you  act  so !  Don't  you 
know  how  dangerous  it  is  for  a  girl  like  you  to  be  allowing 
such  familiarities  from  men  ?" 

"  There  wasn't  a  bit  of  danger  for  me,  ma'am,  for  he  was 
surely  a  kissin'  me  for  some  other  person." 

"  How  can  you  know  that  ? "  inquired  her  mistress, 
angrily. 

"  'Cause  he  kept  puttin'  his  arm  around  my  waist,  and 
callin'  me  'Mrs.  Baltimore  '  the  hull  time.  Bless  your  soul, 
ma'am,  he  told  me  all  about  it.  How  he  stood  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs  and  watched  for  you,  after  he  showed  you  up 
afore  all  the  company,  and  was  sartin  you'd  come  down  in 
some  simple  dress,  and  he  knowed  I  was  you  ;  and  he'd  been 
crazy  with  love  for  me,  for  ever  so  many  months,  and  he 
couldn't  help  tellin'  me  at  last,  and  hoped  I'd  forgive  him  ;  and 
he  kept  a  kissin'  of  me  the  hull  time  like  he  thought  he'd 
got  the  hull  market  of  them  things  all  to  himself.  What 
could  I  do,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  What  did  you  do  ?  "  said  her  mistress,  sternly. 


328  STOBMCLIFF. 

"  Oh,  don't  be  angry,  ma'am  ;  I  did  it  all  for  the  best.  I 
jest  let  him  talk  on  till  I  found  out  who  he  was — and  who 
do  you  think,  ma'am,  he  \vas  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  surely,"  said  Mrs.  Baltimore. 

"  Why  he  was  that  Mr.  Rutherford,  that  smart  man  that 
everybody's  a-talkin'  about." 

"  And  how  do  you  know  that  ?  "  inquired  her  mistress, 
apparently  much  mollified. 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  made  him  take  off  his  mask,  and  I  seen 
him." 

"  You  had  to  pay  for  that,  too,  I'll  venture." 

"  Of  course  I  did,  ma'am ;  he  most  took  away  my 
breath." 

"  Well,  what  next  ?  go  on — tell  me  all." 

"  Why  then,  ma'am,  I  looked  at  his  face,  and  I  sot  up  a 
scream — like  as  if  I  was  awful  surprised — and  says  I :  '  Oh, 
Mr.  Rutherford,  my  goodness  gracious,  this  is  a  terrible  mis 
take  !  I  thought  all  the  time  you  was  Sir  Francis  Cleveland. 
I  would  not  have  let  you  kiss  me  for  all  the  world.'  And  then 
I  up  and  run  away  from  him,  like  I  was  frightened  most  to 
death.  And  when  I  got  around  to  the  house,  I  hid  and 
watched  for  him ;  and  do  you  believe,  I  seen  him  come  out 
of  the  garden  with  his  mask  off,  and  he  jest  as  pale  as  death. 
He  wouldn't  come  into  the  house,  but  kept  right  on  around 
to  the  front  porch,  and  I  followed  him  on  the  sly ;  and  jest  as 
sure  as  you're  alive,  ma'am,  he  called  to  one  of  the  servants 
to  bring  him  his  horse,  and  away  he  went — the  maddest  man 
you  ever  seen.  I'm  so  sorry  for  him,  ma'am ;  but  I  found 
him  out,  and  he's  the  wizard ;  and  I  hope  you  won't  forget 
how  hard  work  I've  had,  ma'am,  earnin'  of  my  brown  silk 
dress  with  the  black  velvet  trimmin's.  Oh  !  don't  do  so, 
ma'am,  I  beg  of  you.  I'm  dreadful  sorry  ef  I've  done  any 
thing  as  wasn't  right — indeed  I  am — indeed  I  am." 

Mrs.  Baltimore  controlled  her  emotion,  whatever  it  was 
that  occasioned  the  deprecatory  tone  of  her  maid.  Masks 
were  gathering  about  her  to  express  their  admiration  of 


STOEMCLIFF.  329 

her  fairy  costume,  and  she  said  in  a  low  earnest  voice,  that 
none  but  Clorinde  could  hear  : 

"  Go  directly  to  my  room  and  remove  your  disguise.  Don't 
you  dare  to  mention  anything  that  has  occurred  to-night. 
The  brown  silk  is  yours — take  it  when  you  please." 

No  one  who  followed  the  movements  of  the  Queen  of  the 
Fairies,  or  noted  her  gay  laugh  during  the  remainder  of  that 
eventful  night,  would  conceive  of  the  heavy  heart  she  bore 
under  the  golden  satin  robe.  The  one  bright  dream  of  her 
life  had  vanished  at  the  moment  of  its  fulfilment.  She  felt 
the  tremor  of  Rutherford's  voice  as  he  pronoxmced  over  her 
the  verses  of  his  love  and  admiration  for  her.  To  make 
"  assurance  doubly  sure,"  she  had  called  in  the  assistance  of 
her  maid  to  identify  the  wizard.  He  loved  her  then  with 
all  the  fervor  of  his  great  soul.  His  love  had  been  offered 
to  her  in  the  person  of  Clorinde.  He  was  satisfied  the  mis 
tress  of  "  The  Glen"  was  before  him,  and  he  had  offered  him 
self  only  to  be  informed  that  she  was  mistaken  in  the  person, 
and  loved  the  Englishman.  He  must  believe  it.  He  would 
believe  it.  It  was  the  impression  of  the  neighborhood.  Sir 
Francis  Cleveland  and  his  daughter  had  been  invited  for  the 
second  time  to  the  estate,  and  she  knew  that  rumor  pro 
nounced  decidedly  upon  their  engagement.  Could  she  ever 
rectify  the  dreadful  mistake  of  her  maid  ?  Could  she  ever 
sacrifice  modesty  sufficiently  to  tell  him  he  had  been  de 
ceived  ?  She  felt  that  she  could  not.  He  had  dashed  away 
from  her  estate  mortified,  wounded,  wretched.  He  would 
never  return.  His  pride  would  make  her  home  the  great 
place  of  all  others  to  be  shunned.  Higher  and  higher  upon 
the  hill  of  fame  would  he  ascend,  seeking  to  bury  his  love 
and  shame  in  the  narcotic  of  ambition  and  worldly  praise, 
and  still  would  the  arrow  of  agony  rankle  in  his  heart.  He 
would  never  love  another  woman  as  he  did  her.  She  knew 
he  was  too  noble,  too  great,  for  more  than  one  love.  He 
might  in  time  marry  another  woman,  as  one  partakes  of  an 
opiate  to  gain  a  temporary  oblivion  of  pain.  But  in  his  great 


330  STOBMCLIFF. 

hours  of  success  or  loneliness  he  would  fall  down  before  the 
altar  of  her  memory  and  worship  in  tears.  The  conscious 
ness  that  Rutherford  loved  her  had  been  as  the  growth  of  a 
flower.  The  tiny  plant  had  given  no  definite  idea  of  form 
and  color ;  as  it  expanded  into  the  perfect  plant  there  still 
was  no  assurance  of  the  flower  to  come.  At  last  the  bud 
was  manifest,  and  as  she  timidly  put  on  her  fairy  guise  to 
wander  around  it,  and  watch  its  last  development,  the  flower 
burst  forth  into  full  bloom,  and  instantly  was  torn  from  its 
stem  by  the  rude  hand  of  her  maid.  He  had  offered  himself 
and  been  rejected.  She  was  a  woman  and  could  make  him 
no  offer  in  return.  How  drearily  sounded  the  music !  how 
tasteless  seemed  the  viands  of  the  great  feast  when  the  masks 
were  removed  and  friends  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  once 
more !  Only  two  of  the  maskers  were  missing  at  the  hour 
of  supper,  the  priestess  and  the  barbarian  king.  Many  were 
the  conjectures  concerning  the  lost  two.  They  must  have 
been  lovers,  who  still  lurked  away  in  some  corner  unmind 
ful  of  supper  when  the  food  of  the  soul  was  exchanged.  The 
mistress  of  the  revel  was  the  object  of  admiration  now  as  she 
sat  at  the  banquet  with  the  fairy  crown  and  the  mock  laugh 
ter  and  the  breaking  heart.  Her  wit  sparkled  high  amid  the 
gay  revellers,  and  still  was  she  alone  ;  without  her  were  the 
emblems  of  wealth  and  power;  within  her,  only  weariness 
and  despair. 


The  clock  in  the  boudoir  of  the  young  widow  struck  four. 
Three  ladies  were  seated  upon  the  bed  in  the  adjoining  room 
discussing  the  events  of  the  ball,  which  had  just  terminated 
in  the  flight  of  the  revellers  to  their  homes. 

Miss  Angier,  with  dishevelled  hair  and  a  loose  wrapper, 
counted  the  strokes,  and  then  exclaimed  with  a  yawn : 

"  Oh,  dear  !  four  o'clock  at  last.  Life  is  real — life  is  ear 
nest.  For  my  part,  I  wish  poets  had  never  been  born. 
They  have  a  way  of  telling  us  so  many  disagreeable  truths. 


STOKMCLHT.  331 

What's  the  matter,  Mrs.  Baltimore  ?  You  look  weary  of 
life,  and  you  were  the  belle  of  the  evening,  too." 

"No,  no,  Katy,"  said  the  young  widow,  also  in  dishabille, 
with  her  dark  hair  streaming  down  in  disorder,  which  old 
Nora  was  quietly  endeavoring  to  comb  out  for  her,  "I'm 
not  weary  of  life — only  the  life  of  this  land.  What  do  you 
say  of  another  visit  to  Europe  ?  There  is  so  much  of  the 
classic  and  the  beautiful  there  yet  for  us  to  see.  I  fear  the 
winter  will  be  too  lonely  for  us  here  upon  this  old  place 
when  the  storms  set  in  and  our  friends  are  gone." 

"  What,  and  leave  all  this  luxury  and  comfort  behind  us 
for  the  slim  chances  of  hotel  comfort  on  the  continent  ?•" 
exclaimed  her  friend.  "  What's  the  matter  with  you,  honey  ? 
I  never  knew  you  look  so  sepulchral  before.  Don't  you  give 
away  with  your  bright  face  to  the  blues,  or  poor  Kate  An- 
gier  will  invite  you  to  her  funeral  before  two  weeks.  I 
live  in  the  light  of  your  eyes,  as  the  lovers  say ;  and  if 
those  stars  set,  Kate  Angler's  night  has  surely  come. 
Cheer  up.  You  didn't  drink  any  champagne  to-night — 
that's  what's  the  matter.  Shall  I  ring  for  some  ?  I  think 
one  more  glass  would  enable  me  to  see  my  grandmother's 
ghost  crowned  and  beautiful.  For  it's — 

" '  Sparkling  and  bright  in  its  liquid  light, 
Is  the  wine  our  goblets  filling ; 
With  a  hue  as  red  as  the  rosy  bed,'  etc.,,  etc.,  etc. 

Ha !  ha  !  Cheer  up,  mistress  of  millions.  If  I  was  you,  and 
you  was  me,  I'd  spend  my  millions  on  a  spree.  Why, 
what's  the  matter  with  you,  ducky?" 

"  Hush  your  nonsense,"  replied  Mrs.  Baltimore,  making  a 
heroic  effort  to  laugh.  "  If  I  didn't  know  the  strength  of 
your  head,  I  should  mildly  insinuate  that  you  were  affected 
by  wine.  If  I'm  low-spirited,  you  are  growing  reckless. 
You're  not  the  self  possessed  damsel  you  were  a  year  ago. 
Nora,  look  at  her — she  is  going  to  throw  all  those  fancy 
dresses  over  onto  us.  Kate — you  Kate — don't  you  do  it." 


332  STORMCLIFF. 

The  remonstrance  came  too  late.  A  pile  of  costumes  was 
lifted  and  showered  over  Mrs.  Baltimore  and  Nora.  "  I'm 
going  to  stir  you  up  a  little — you  need  it,  both  of  you — 
here's  more  of  the  same  sort."  Another  shower  of  dry -goods 
enveloped  both  of  them.  They  could  not  restrain  her  dis 
position  to  romp,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  whole  party  were 
in  an  uproar,  laughing  and  heaping  the  loose  articles  over 
each  other.  In  a  few  minutes,  the  gay  girl  stood  by  the 
door,  and,  enjoying  their  confusion  amid  pillows  and  dresses, 
shouted  before  leaving :  "  I  knew  I  could  get  you  all  in  bet 
ter  spirits.  Ha,  ha !  look  at  Nora's  hair.  Good-night — 
good-morning,  I  mean." 

Thus  parted  two  wretched  and  beautiful  beings,  happy 
only  in  the  friendship  of  each  other ;  the  lover  of  one  re 
jected  for  his  crimes,  the  lover  of  the  other  rejected  through 
the  stupidity  of  a  maid. 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

RUTHERFORD,  after  leaving  the  park,  put  spurs  to  his  horse 
and  flew  homeward  like  the  wind.  It  was  not  far  from  day 
light,  and  the  setting  moon  shed  a  sickly  light  from  the  west. 
The  pale,  gloomy  scene  accorded  with  his  desolation  of  heart. 
The  earth  was  gloomy,  the  lamp  of  heaven  was  gloomy,  the 
hopes  of  the  future  were  more  gloomy  still.  To  struggle  for 
fame  and  wealth,  that  a  loving  heart  may  share  them  with 
us ;  to  know  that  one  eager  soul  watches  our  efforts  with 
hope  and  sympathy  ;  to  feel  that  a  kindred  nature  shares  our 
impulses  and  aspirations — all  these  nerve  us  in  the  hour  of 
depression  to  rise  and  struggle  upwards  still.  Few  know  the 
reaction  and  the  weariness,  the  faintness  and  the  foreboding 
of  failure,  which  follow  upon  long  continued  and  severe  effort 
of  the  impulsive  soul  which  aspires  to  intellectual  fame. 


STOKMCLIFF.  333 

There  is  an  intensity  and  concentration  of  purpose  in  the 
student  who  so  persistently  isolates  himself  from  society  and 
friends,  which  one  might  imagine  to  be  substitutes  for  human 
sympathy  and  kindness.  .But  no  lofty  purpose,  no  devotion 
to  intellectual  ambition,  can  comfort  and  sustain  him  when 
he  emerges  from  that  isolation,  weary  in  mind,  and  with  the 
nerves  of  the  brain  excited  and  overtasked.  Then  does  the. 
heart  stretch  forth  its  tendrils,  present  its  claims  to  gentleness 
and  sympathy ;  and  in  the  rest  and  peace  secured  through  the 
instrumentality  of  kind  words,  cheering  appreciation,  and  the 
gentle  and  magnetic  touch  of  loving  hands,  is  born  new 
strength  for  future  effort  in  the  noble,  arduous  pursuits  of 
the  intellectual.  The  most  persistent  devotees  at  the  temple 
of  fame  are  often  the  most  tender  and  sensitive  in  the  affec 
tions  of  the  heart.  Spurn  them,  neglect  them  as  they  issue 
from  that  temple,  weary  and  sick  with  the  strain  upon  the 
nerves,  and  longing  for  quiet  and  sympathy,  and  you  may 
drive  them  to  the  Lethe  of  some  sensual  opiate  which  ruins 
soul  and  body,  blights  the  intellect,  and  leaves  on  the  pedes 
tal  of  love  only  the  image  of  despair. 

Such  a  nature  did  Rutherford,  the  young  orator  of  the 
highlands,  possess.  When  the  bugle-blast  of  fame  pro 
claimed  most  thrillingly  his  advent  on  the  borders  of  elo 
quence  and  letters,  his  heart  turned  eagerly  about  for  some 
object  of  love  to  share  his  pride  and  success.  The  magnetic 
needle  of  his  soul  pointed  at  last  to  Grace  Baltimore.  And 
when  her  image  became  distinct  and  beautiful  upon  the  mir 
ror  of  his  taste  and  judgment ;  when  he  realized  how  essen 
tial  her  existence  had  become  to  his  own  happiness  in  life, 
with  the  impulse,  the  uncalculating  earnestness  of  a  true 
heart,  he  sought  her  hand.  The  rebuff  came  so  unexpectedly, 
it  shocked  the  refinement  of  his  heart.  Not  without  encour 
agement,  not  rashly,  had  he  approached  the  heiress  of  millions. 
There  had  been  palpable  manifestations  of  partiality  for  his 
society.  She  preferred  his  conversation  to  that  of  any  of 
the  visitors  at  "  The  Glen."  He  could  not  but  observe  the 


334  STORMCLIFF. 

truth,  and  he  felt  assured-  that  his  character  stood  high  in 
her  esteem.  And  when,  therefore,  she  avowed  so  abruptly 
her  partiality  for  the  Englishman,  and  her  horror  at  the  mis 
take  she  had  made  in  the  masker  beside  her,  the  floodgates 
of  shame  were  opened.  He  felt  confident  that  the  mystery, 
the  suspicion  attending  his  birth,  his  want  of  home  and 
family,  had  condemned  him  to  be  an  outcast  from  joy  for 
ever.  He  had  been  abandoned  by  the  woman,  whose  inde 
pendence  of  character  he  had  estimated  so  high,  because  she 
was  not  an  iron  breakwater  to  cleave  the  waves  of  preju 
dice.  He  looked  inwards  and  beheld  integrity ;  he  looked 
upwards  and  realized  the  God  who  made  him.  Like  the 
mother  who  convulsively  draws  the  veil  for  the  last  time 
over  the  face  of  her  dead,  her  only  child,  and  turns  to  God 
for  future  comfort  alone,  so  did  Rutherford  tear  himself  away 
from  the  home  and  the  presence  of  that  superb  woman  whose 
equal  he  had  never  seen,  save  in  his  dreams  of  the  ideal. 

Purposeless,  desolate,  with  no  idea  save  that  of  burying 
himself  away  from  the  gaze  of  men  in  some  lonely  spot  where 
he  could  mourn  unnoticed,  the  lawyer,  in  his  strange  garb, 
found  himself  close  upon  the  hour  of  dawn  standing  before 
the  long-neglected  and  deserted  cottage  of  old  Nora  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  town.  He  had  left  the  borrowed  horse  with 
the  owner  on  his  way  through  the  silent  streets,  and  now 
stood  with  Nora's  key  before  her  vacant  tenement.  He  had 
often  availed  himself  of  the  old  woman's  invitation  to  use  her 
key  in  making  his  visits  to  the  height  of  StormcliiF.  He  felt 
so  utterly  deserted  now  that  he  yearned  to  ascend  the  sub 
terranean  path  to  the  summit,  and  watch  the  god  of  day  rise 
upon  the  world.  Nature  had  not  deserted  him  yet,  and  in 
her  companionship  he  had  often  found  solace  and  strength. 

He  was  surprised  to  find  a  human  being  seated  upon  the 
doorstep.  The  pale  light  in  the  east  revealed  an  obstruction 
in  his  way  in  the  shape  of  an  old  man.  Stooping  to  examine 
the  stranger,  he  discovered  that  he  was  sleeping.  Pity  was 
aroused  at  once,  for  the  October  morning  was  cold,  and  per- 


STOEMCLIFF.  835 

haps  the  old  wanderer  had  been  sleeping  there  all  night.  He 
touched  the  stranger's  forehead  ;  it  was  very  cold.  He  re 
solved  to  arouse  him,  and  if  necessary  offer  him  a  place  upon 
Uie  floor  of  Nora's  tenement.  But  his  gentle  touch  had  been 
sufficient,  for  the  old  man  started  and  opened  his  eyes. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  my  old  friend  ?"•  he  asked, 
kindly. 

"  Waiting  for  the  owner  of  the  house  to  wake  up,"  was 
the  response. 

"Rather  useless  keeping  such  a  vigil,"  said  the  lawyer. 
"  This  house  has  not  been  occupied  for  a  long  time." 

"Ho!  ho!"  exclaimed  the  stranger,  in  surprise.  "They 
told  me  about  one  o'clock  at  the  tavern  that  this  was  old 
Nora  Rudd's  house." 

"They  told  you  right,  then.  It  belongs  to  her;  but  she 
don't  live  in  it  now.  She  lives  several  miles  away  from  here 
up  the  river." 

"  They  might  have  been  civil  enough  to  tell  me  that,"  said 
the  old  man,  rising  to  his  feet,  and  glancing  in  amazement  at 
the  lawyer's  startling  costume.  "  But  I  must  be  dreaming 
yet,  for  it  seems  to  me  as  if  you  were  some  kind  of  an 
ancient  king,  with  your  crown,  and  armor,  and  sword,  and 
all.  Am  I  dreaming  yet,  my  friend  ?" 

"  No !  you  are  awake.  No  doubt  I  look  singular  enough 
to  you,  for  I  have  been  out  late  to  a  masquerade-ball,  and  I 
haven't  succeeded  in  reaching  my  bed  yet.  Do  you  know 
old  Nora  Rudd  ?» 

The  old  man  looked  keenly  at  his  interrogator  before  he 
replied.  Then  he  said,  dryly : 

"  I  do  know  her,  else  I  wouldn't  be  waiting  for  her  here. 
I  came  on  the  boat  late  last  night.  We  were  delayed,  and 
I  thought  when  I  arrived  at  the  tavern  that  perhaps  I  might 
succeed  in  waking  the  old  lady  up  and  getting  a  lodging 
here.  The  stable-boy  up  there  directed  me  here  when  I  asked 
about  her  house.  But  he  must  have  been  a  kind  of  fool  to 
send  an  old  man  like  me  to  an  empty  house." 


336  STORMCLIFF. 

"I  should  think  so,"  said  the  lawyer.  "But  if  you  wish 
to  see  Mrs.  Rudd  you  will  have  to  travel  some  distance 
yet.  She  lives  on  an  estate  called  '  The  Glen.' " 

"  You  don't  tell  me  so,"  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  Why 
that's  the  old  place  of  the  Baltimore  family.  It  can't  be  pos 
sible  she  is  staying  there  /" 

"Why  not?"  said  Rutherford.  "These  old  nurses  have 
no  limit  to  the  places  they  can  stay  at,  so  far  as  my  expe 
rience  goes." 

"My  young  friend,  are  you  positive  about  it  ?" 

"Certainly  I  am.  I  have  just  come  from  there  myself. 
The  ball  was  there,  and  I  saw  Nora  there.  She  has  been 
there  a  long  time." 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  what's  the  name  of  the 
Baltimore  that  owns  the  place  now  ?  He's  an  old  man,  if 
I  recollect  aright." 

"  The  Glen  is  owned  by  a  lady  now,"  replied  Rutherford ; 
"  Mrs.  Grace  Baltimore,  the  widow  of  old  Baltimore,  is  the 
present  proprietor." 

"Was  old  Baltimore  married?"  .asked  the  stranger,  in 
surprise. 

"He  was  married  about  seven  years  ago,"  was  the  re 
sponse.  "It  was  about  that  long  ago  that  he  was  mar 
ried." 

"  And  pray  who  did  he  marry  ?"  persisted  the  old  man. 

"  Miss  Grace  Traver,  the  daughter  of  Nicholas  Traver." 

"  And  did  he  have  a  daughter  old  enough  to  marry  that 
old  man?" 

"  She  was  fifteen  years  old,  I  believe,"  replied  the  lawyer. 

"  That  was  strange,"  muttered  the  stranger. 

"  I  think  so  myself,"  replied  Rutherford.  "  It  was  a  great 
discrepancy  in  their  ages.  But  what  do  you  intend  to  do — 
go  back  to  the  tavern  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  the  old  man,  recalled  to  the  neces 
sities  of  the  present.  "  I  came  to  this  town  to  see  old  Nora 
Rudd.  I  had  just  money  enough  to  bring  me  here,  and  I 


STORMCLIFF.  337 

haven't  anything  to  pay  my  way  here  at  the  tavern,  and  I 
fear  I  shall  have  to  walk  out  to  '  The  Glen.' " 

"  That  will  be  a  long  tramp  for  an  old  man  like  you,"  said 
Rutherford,  in  a  kindly  tone,  which  gave  the  stranger  en-' 
couragement,  for  he  said  : 

"  If  I  can  get  to  see  old  Nora  Rudd,  she  will  let  me  have 
all  the  money  I  need ;  and  if  I  can  find  somebody  in  this  town 
kind  enough  to  loan  me  money  to  hire  a  horse  to  take  me 
out  there,  I  will  be  able  to  pay  it  back  by  to-night  or  to-mor 
row  morning." 

"  You  appear  to  be  acquainted  with  this  neighborhood," 
said  Rutherford,  steadily  contemplating  the  features  of  the 
stranger,  which  were  becoming  more  distinct  in  the  increas 
ing  dawn. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  knew  this  country  many  years  ago. 
But  you  know  there's  many  changes  in  a  place  in  a  quarter 
of  a  century,  and  it's  upwards  of  that  since  I  laid  my  eyes  on 
this  town  last." 

"  I  must  have  been  quite  a  young  fellow  about  the  time  you 
were  here  last,  then,"  said  the  lawyer,  examining  the  stran 
ger's  features  more  closely. 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  fiom  head  to  foot,  and  then  said : 
"  You're  a  powerful-looking  man,  I  declare.  I  should  say 
you're  not  over  thirty  yet." 

"  I'll  soon  be  that,"  said  the  lawyer,  suddenly  changing  his 
purpose  of  entering  Nora's  house,  and  turning  away.  After 
a  few  steps,  however,  he  turned  back,  and  seeing  the  old 
man  still  standing  in  uncertainty  of  purpose,  he  said  to  him : 
;  "  I  can't  see  a  fellow-being  in  a  tight  place  without  trying 
to  do  something  for  him.  Are  you  a  friend  of  old  Nora  ?" 

"  I  am  that,"  said  the  stranger,  moving  on  to  the  lawyer's 
side.  "  She'll  feel  happier  at  seeing  my  face  than  she  has 
been  for  many  a  long  day,  I'll  venture." 

"  How  so  ?"  inquired  Rutherford. 

"That's  a  matter  between  the  old  woman  and  me,"  he 
replied,  guardedly. 

15 


338  STORMCLIFF. 

"  Well,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  if  you  are  a  friend  of  Nora, 
you  shall  have  a  helping  hand  from  me ;  for  she's  my  best 
friend  in  the  world.  Come  along  with  me  to  my  little  house. 
I'll  give  you  a  breakfast  cooked  by  my  own  hands,  and 
then  I'll  hire  a  horse  for  you  and  start  you  off." 
i  "  Why !  you're  the  good  Samaritan,  ain't  you  ?  May  I 
inquire  your  name,  sir  ?" 

"Certainly.  Rutherford's  my  name.  Clarence  Ruther 
ford.  I'm  a  lawyer." 

"Rutherford,  Rutherford?"  repeated  the  old  man.  "I 
don't  think  I  ever  knew  any  person  by  that  name.  Was 
you  a  native  of  this  place,  sir  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  born  and  brought  up  here.  But  let's  hurry  along. 
I  don't  think  people  will  understand  how  the  King  of  the 
Huns  has  descended,  or  ascended  rather,  into  the  streets  of 
this  town;  and  I'd  rather  they  wouldn't  get  an  opportunity 
to  speculate  about  it  either.  Let's  hurry  along  to  my  office, 
and  I'll  change  my  dress." 

Thus  admonished,  the  stranger  quickened  his  pace,  and 
they  moved  rapidly  along  together.  Few  persons  were 
stirring  on  the  streets,  and  they  succeeded  in  a  few  minutes 
in  crossing  the  town,  and  reaching  the  lawyer's  office  by  the 
river.  The  only  person  who  noted  the  lawyer's  appearance 
in  the  distance  was  a  small  juvenile,  who  shouted  : 

"  Cricky,  the  surkis  is  a  comin'." 

When  the  stranger  had  been  introduced  to  the  interior  of 
the  little  office,  where  he  was  directed  to  be  seated  until  the 
lawyer  could  change  his  garments  and  prepare  the  morning 
meal,  he  examined  curiously  every  article  in  the  room,  even 
taking  up  some  of  the  law  books  from  the  table  and  glancing 
over  their  titles.  Before  he  had  made  a  thorough  survey  of 
the  apartment,  he  was  startled  by  a  sudden  noise  behind 
him.  Turning  around  in  his  chair,  he  beheld  the  old  clock 
diligently  marking  off  the  hour.  With  an  exclamation,  he 
started  to  his  feet. 

"  Where  in  the  name  of  God  did  you  get  that  clock  ?" 


STOKMCLIFF.  339 

Rutherford,  who  was  building  a  fire  on  the  hearth,  looked 
up  and  said : 

"  It  was  willed  to  me.  Why,  is  there  anything  peculiar 
about  it  ?  " 

The  old  man  quickly  regained  his  reserve  of  manner,  and 
answered : 

"  Why,  yes — I  should  say  there  was.  It's  a  rare  thing  to 
meet  such  a  piece  of  furniture  these  days.  When  I  was  a 
boy  those  clocks  were  in  fashion  ;  but  now,  my  goodness,  it 
is  odd  enough  to  meet  with  one.  You  say  it  was  willed  to 
you?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  lawyer,  resuming  his  work  on  the  hearth. 
"  That's  all  that  the  past  has  left  me  for  a  legacy." 

The  old  man  was  regarding  him  intently  as  he  in 
quired  : 

"  I  hope  it  ain't  presumption  in  me  to  inquire  who  willed 
the  old  thing  to  you,  is  it  ?" 

"  Oh  no,"  said  the  lawyer,  still  continuing  his  work,  and 
looking  down  at  the  flames  slowly  enveloping  his  kindling 
wood.  "  Judge  Holden  willed  that  clock  to  me." 

"The  deuce  he  did,"  said  the  stranger,  trying  to  get  a 
better  look  at  his  companion's  face.  "  Was  old  Judge  Hol 
den  any  kin  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  Well,  upon  my  word,  now  that  I  see  your  face  better,  I 
declare  you  look  amazingly  like  the  Judge.  Your  mouth 
and  forehead  is  the  Judge's  all  over  again.  Likely  you  was 
a  friend  of  his  ?  " 

"You  seem  to  have  a  pretty  good  memory  for  faces 
twenty-five  years  ago,"  said  Rutherford,  turning  away  from 
his  fire,  and  going  in  pursuit  of  cooking  utensils.  "  I've 
heard  that  remark  of  yours  repeated  many  a  time.  Every 
body  traces  a  strong  likeness  in  me  to  the  Judge.  No,  the 
Judge  wasn't  any  particular  friend  of  mine,  else  lie  would 
have  given  me  something  more  in  the  shape  of  legal  tender 
than  that  old  baggage." 


340  STORMCLIFF. 

"  But  how  came  he  to  do  it,  anyway  ? "  persisted  the 
stranger. 

"  That's  as  much  a  mystery  to  me,  my  friend,  as  it  is  to 
you,"  was  the  response. 

Rutherford  was  too  busy  to  notice  the  effect  of  his  answer 
upon  the  old  man.  The  stranger  was  on  the  very  point  of 
uttering  an  exclamation  as  he  arose  partly  from  the  chair ; 
but  he  restrained  himself,  and  dropped  back  again  into  his 
Beat.  Resting  his  face  upon  his  hand,  he  watched  every 
movement  of  his  host,  eagerly  looking  into  his  face  when  the 
changing  attitudes  of  the  lawyer  gave  him  an  opportunity. 
At  length  he  appeared  to  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  his 
scrutiny,  for  he  arose  from  his  chair,  and  walking  around  to 
the  old  clock,  examined  it  from  top  to  bottom.  His  back 
was  towards  his  host,  so  that  the  expression  of  his  counte 
nance,  as  he  contemplated  the  old  monitor,  was  not  seen. 
Then  he  came  back  to  his  seat,  and  after  a  few  minutes  of 
silent  reflection,  he  said  : 

"  The  Judge  was  a  pretty  likely  man." 

"  A  very  fine  man,"  was  the  lawyer's  reply.  "  His  charac 
ter  stood  high  in  this  community." 

"  And  did  he  leave  much  property  ?  "  inquired  the  old  man. 

"  Oh,  yes,  a  very  handsome  fortune.  And  his  homestead, 
Rockview,  is  considered  one  of  the  finest  estates  in  this 
county,"  said  the  lawyer,  striving  to  suppress  an  emotion 
of  pain  at  the  allusion. 

"  Any  heirs,  sir  ?" 

"  He  had  no  children,"  was  the  response.  "  He  left  his 
entire  property  to  a  relative  in  trust." 

"  And  why  in  trust  ?"  inquired  the  stranger. 

"  Because  the  Judge  was  under  the  impression  that  a  child 
of  his,  who  had  been  missing  since  infancy,  W.AS  stlil  alive 
somewhere  on  the  earth,  and  might  turn  up  some  day.  He 
believed  that  his  own  child  had  been  exchanged  for  another 
in  infancy,  and  he  determined  to  retain  his  property  for  that 
lost  child." 


STORMCLIFF.  341 

"I  suppose  he  acted  upon  information,  and  not  from 
eccentricity,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  I  cannot  inform  you  on  that  subject,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  I  do  not  know,"  replied  Rutherford. 

"  But  what  child  did  the  Judge  suppose  his  own  child  had 
leen  exchanged  for  ?" 

"  For  the  child  who  is  busily  prepai-ing  your  breakfast  for 
you  at  this  very  moment,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  I  thought  so,"  muttered  the  stranger.  But  he  was 
overheard. 

"  You  did  ?  "What  made  you  suppose  that  ?"  asked  the 
lawyer,  pausing  in  the  act  of  clearing  off  his  table  for  the 
breakfast  which  was  now  cooking,  and  looking  in  amazement 
at  the  old  man.  The  stranger  appeared  embarrassed  at  being 
overheard,  and  made  no  response. 

"  How  could  you  suppose  anything  about  it  without 
knowing  me  ?"  inquired  Rutherford  again. 

"Why,"  said  the  man  slowly,  and  as  if  studying  his 
answer — "  why,  you  see  you  look  like  old  Judge  Holden — 
and  you  walk  like  him,  and  your  voice  reminds  me  of  him 
every  minute — that's  why." 

"  So  you  knew  him  well,  did  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  knew  him,"  said  the  stranger,  evasively. 

"  Well,  I'm  that  child,  sure  enough,  and  I  have  no  parents 
that  I  ever  heard  of,  and  I  just  have  to  fight  single-handed 
against  the  world.  I've  been  pretty  successful,  but  I'm 
growing  tired  of  being  kin  to  nobody,  and  I  don't  care 
much  what  happens  to  me  now.'T 

There  was  such  despondency  in  the  young  lawyer's  tones 
that  the  old  man  seemed  touched. 

"Never  say  that  word  this  side  of  the  grave,  young  man. 
The  devil  likes  such  conclusions  as  that.  Keep  a  stout 
heart  to  the  end,  and  remember  that  God  helps  those  that 
help  themselves." 

"  I  take  it  back,  sir,"  said  Rutherford ;  "  it's  a  weakness  to 
give  up.  But  I'm  mighty  lonely,  sometimes,  I  can  tell  you." 


342  STORMCLIFF. 

"And  does  old  Nora  Rudd  never  come  to  see  you?" 
inquired  the  old  man. 

"  Bless  her  old  heart,"  exclaimed  Rutherford,  "  she's  always 
stood  by  me  and  defended  me  and  cheered  me  up,  when  my 
heart  was  most  broken.  She  is  a  splendid  woman.  I 
wonder  who  she  is  ?  Nobody  seems  to  know." 

"  I  know,"  said  the  old  man,  calmly. 

"  The  mischief  you  do,"  exclaimed  the  lawyer. 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  answered  the  stranger.  "  But  look  here, 
young  man  :  let  this  be  a  lesson  to  you  as  long  as  you  live. 
Never  refuse  to  .help  a  fellow-being  in  trouble  when  you 
can.  You  have  treated  me  like  a  gentleman,  and  you've 
entertained  an  angel  in  disguise.  You'll  find  that  fact  out 
before  you're  many  days  older.  But  don't  you  be  asking  me 
questions  now.  Just  wait  till  I  have  seen  old  Nora,  and  then 
if  you  don't  hear  something  to  your  advantage,  take  this  old 
man's  head  for  a  football." 

Rutherford  looked  anxiously  at  the  stranger. 

"  Don't  ask  me  questions,  young  man — wait — I  can't  explain 
matters  until  I  have  consulted  old  Nora." 

"  Well,"  said  the  lawyer,  "  draw  your  chair  up  to  the  table 
and  I'll  give  you  some  breakfast.  So  you  think  I  look  like  the 
Judge,  do  you  ?" 

"  You're  his  image,  and  nothing  else.  I  never  saw  such 
a  resemblance  before.  And  so  Nora  lives  at  '  The  Glen ' 
now,  does  she  ?" 

"  She  does  that." 

"  And  is  she  a  nurse  there  ?" 

"  No,  she's  a  kind  of  factotum,  steward,  and  friend,  and 
housekeeper,  and  everything.  Mrs.  Baltimore  has  great  con 
fidence  in  her.  She  used  to  be  Grace  Traver's  old  nurse. 
That's  how  the  intimacy  arose  between  them.  Here,  try 
some  of  this  coifee.  I've  had  to  learn  everything  in  battling 
with  this  world.  I  was  left  without  a  cent.  But  my  old 
friend,  the  clock  there  and  I  have  fought  our  way  up  in  life. 
I've  bought  and  paid  for  this  house  and  lot,  been  elected  to 


STOBMCLIFF.  343 

the  Legislature,  and  have  quite  a  little  business  in  the  law 
building  up  around  me.  But  alas  !  I  feel  lonely  and  dis 
couraged.  It's  mighty  hard  to  live  alone.  Did  you  ever 
try  it  ?" 

"  No,  never,"  was  the  response.  "  I  have  a  family,  and 
it's  been  a  tough  time  for  me  to  support  them ;  but  I  have 
contrived  to  live  along  by  keeping  a  stout  heart.  I  am  a 
sail-maker  by  trade,  and  I  have  wandered  in  most  every 
country  in  the  world.  I  have  been  gone  from  my  native 
land  many  years.  I  have  just  returned  from  England  now." 

"  Where  is  your  family  ?" 

"  They're  in  New  York.  I  brought  them  back  from  Eng 
land  with  me.  They've  been  living  with  me  while  I  wan 
dered  about  the  world." 

"  And  where  did  you  know  Nora  Rudd  ?" 

"  Here,  and  in  New  York.  But  don't  question  me  now. 
When  I  return  from  '  The  Glen,'  I'll  have  another  talk  with 
you." 

"  You've  no  objection  to  giving  me  your  name,"  said  the 
lawyer. 

"  None  at  all.    My  name  is  Moses  Goble." 

"  That's  very  queer  !"  exclaimed  Rutherford. 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  said  the  old  man.  "  I  think  that's  a 
very  respectable  name." 

"  No !  not  the  name,  but  the  coincidence." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"  Why,  in  one  of  those  strange  trances  which  Nora  Rudd 
is  subject  to,  she  foretold  that  my  own  fate  would  be  in 
fluenced  this  fall  by  the  appearance  of  a  man  named  Moses 
Goble.  She  was  sitting  here  a  few  months  ago,  in  that  very 
chair  that  you  occupy  now,  when  the  trance  came  upon  her." 

"  And  is  she  subject  to  those  trances  yet  ?" 

"  Yes,  several  times  a  year  she  has  them." 

"  I've  no  doubt,"  said  the  stranger,  "  that  her  having  been 
expecting  me  to  return  to  this  country,  produced  that  remark 
in  her  trance." 


344  STOUMCLIFF. 

"  Perhaps  so,"  said  Rutherford,  thoughtfully.  "  But  this 
whole  subject  of  trances  is  an  enigma.  Perhaps  science  will 
explain  it  some  day.  Are  you  ready  now  for  your  horse? 
•If  so,  we  will  go  to  the  stables  at  once.  I  have  much  busi 
ness  to  attend  to  to-day,  and  the  morning  is  my  best  time  for 
work." 

"  All  ready  now,"  said  the  old  man ;  "  and  many  thanks 
for  your  kindness.  I  trust  you  will  feel  in  better  spirits  when 
I  return.  Young  people  should  be  the  gay  ones  in  this 
world ;  but  you've  done  wonders  under  the  circumstances." 

Thus  speaking,  he  followed  the  dejected  lawyer  into  the 
street  of  the  town. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

IT  was  mid-day  early  in  the  dreamy  month  of  October.  The 
purple  grapes  on  the  garden  trellises  still  hung  in  huge  clus 
ters  awaiting  the  pleasure  of  their  owner.  The  mansion  bad 
been  vacated  by  the  tenant  a  few  weeks  before,  and  no  one 
remained  upon  the  premises  but  an  old  female  servant,  who 
had  lived  many  years  upon  the  property,  and  was  permitted 
to  remain  now  by  the  kindness  of  the  agent.  She  had  been 
a  favorite  domestic  of  the  deceased  proprietor.  The  family 
who  had  leased  the  property,  and  had  just  vacated  it,  were 
induced  to  retain  the  services  of  the  old  woman  during  their 
occupancy  of  the  estate.  But  now  they  were  gone,  and 
the  lonely  old  creature  wandered  up  and  down  the  meadow- 
lands  or  slowly  traversed  the  garden  paths  dreaming  of  the 
past,  and  wondering  what  was  to  become  of  her  now.  An 
old  blue  sun-bonnet  shaded  her  face  from  the  warm  rays  of 
the  noontide  as  she  moved  about  the  premises,  and  her  faded 
calico,  as  it  trailed  slowly  along,  swept  the  crisp  and  rustling 
leaves  which  had  fallen  upon  the  avenues. 


STOKMCLIFF.  345 

She  paused  at  length  before  the  deserted  mansion,  and 
looking  up  at  its  closed  blinds  and  its  stately  proportions, 
as  it  stood  so  far  above  the  surrounding  lands  on  its  lofty 
pedestal  of  rocks,  which  in  the  ancient  time  had  been  severed 
from  the  adjacent  mountain  probably  by  volcanic  action, 
she  muttered : 

"  Aye !  Rockview,  it  is ;  a  strange  idea,  that  of  planting  a 
house  so  high  up  above  the  trees  and  the  country  around. 
Now,  if  it  had  been  me  as  had  the  building  of  that  ar' 
house,  I'd  put  it  down  here  under  the  trees  where  they'd 
have  sheltered  it  from  the  sun.  But  there's  no  accounting 
for  tastes  ;  and  then  the  Judge  was  so  queer  in  his  notions 
any  way.  He  hated  shade  'cause  he'd  got  a  notion  'twas 
unhealthy.  I  think  it  is  myself  in  the  winter-time.  But 
there's  one  thing  sure.  By  putting  that  house  high  up  on 
the  rocks,  he  always  got  a  breeze  in  hot  weather.  But  didn't 
it  blow  cold,  though,  up  there  in  the  winter?  It's  hard 
climbing  up  to  it  from  these  gardens  for  an  old  thing  like 
me,  and  yet  when  you're  once  up  there,  ain't  the  river  view 
great !  It  is  that.  I  wouldn't  like  to  lose  that — no,  sir  ! 
How  I  do  wish  Mister  Clarence  was  back  here — poor  boy! 
I've  no  more  idea  he  ain't  the  Judge's  son  than  I  have  that 
the  sun's  cheese.  Why,  jest  look  at  it — face  and  walk,  and 
everything.  He's  the  Judge  all  over.  Pooh  !  you  needn't  tell 
me  none  of  your  trash.  He's  the  Judge's  son,  and  he  oughter 
be  here.  My  goodness  alive !  what's  a  comin'  ?  If  there 
ain't  Mister  Clarence  himself." 

A  young  man  in  iron-grey  was  advancing  rapidly  up  the 
gardens  with  his  arms  laden  with  bunches  of  grapes  and  yel 
low  pears.  The  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  old  domestic 
he  uttered  a  shout  that  made  the  welkin  ring.  Then  he  let 
the  fruit  drop,  and  ran  towards  her,  shouting : 

"  Hurrah !  you  old  queen  of  the  kitchen !  Are  you  glad 
to  see  me  ?  Say !  one  more  yell  just  to  clear  my  lungs,  and 
then  I'll  talk  to  you.  Ho !  ho !  ho !  Rockview !  ho !  ho !" 

The  wild  shout  of  exultation  was  echoed  back  from  the 

15* 


346  STORMCLIFF. 

mountain  behind  the  house.  Then  he  dashed  up  to  the  as 
tounded  servant,  and  clasping  both  arms  about  her,  made 
her  dance  round  on  the  avenue,  as  he  said  wildly  and  half 
out  of  breath : 

"  I'm  going  crazy.  Why  don't  you  talk,  I  say ;  why  don't 
you  talk  ?"  As  if  any  human  being  hugged  in  that  manner  by 
a  young  giant,  and  danced  around  on  the  tips  of  her  aged 
toes,  could  even  approximate  to  a  talk.  Her  sun-bonnet  was 
danced  off  before  he  let  her  drop.  Then  catching  hold  of  both 
her  hands,  he  looked  in  her  face  and  laughed  a  loud,  merry, 
ringing,  exultant  laugh  of  joy.  She  was  satisfied  he  had  lost 
his  reason.  She  looked  the  picture  of  dismay,  with  her  hair 
half-shaken  down  from  its  fastenings  and  her  sun-bonnet 
under  her  feet.  Rutherford  stooped  and  picked  up  the  bonnet 
and  placed  it  on  her  head  quickly;  but  he  put  it  on  tho 
wrong  way  so  that  she  could  not  see.  Discovering  his  mis 
take,  he  removed  it  again,  and  stood  with  it  in  his  hand 
•waiting  for  her  to  arrange  her  disordered  hair. 

O  O 

"  Mister  Clarence,  are  you  crazy  ?" 

"  Perfectly  and  hopelessly  insane,"  was  the  response.  "  You 
shall  be  the  cook  of  a  crazy  master.  Have  you  heard  the 
news,  Hannah?  Have  you  heard  the  news?  Why  didn't 
you  come  down  to  me  at  the  gate  ?  I  expected  you  to  be 
there  looking  out  for  me.  Here  I  come  back  to  claim  my 
old  home,  and  not  a  human  turns  out  to  greet  me.  The 
old  cook  skulks  under  the  trees,  and  nothing  says  to  me  eat, 
•eat,  except  the  pears  and  the  grapes.  What's  the  matter 
with  you  ?  Why  don't  you  speak  ?  I  shall  go  crazy,  suro 
enough,  if  something  don't  speak.  Have  you  heard  the 
news  ?" 

The  old  woman  took  her  sun-bonnet  from  his  hand,  and 
said,  half-bewildered  as  she  looked  at  his  happy  face : 

"What  can  an  old,  out-of-the-way  thing  like  me  hear? 
What  do  you  mean,  Mister  Clarence,  by  scaring  me  so  ?" 

"  I  mean  that  I'm  lord  and  master  of  Rockview.  Judge 
Holden  was  my  father  and  his  wife  wasn't  my  mother — that's 


STOKMCLIFF.        «  347 

what  I  mean ;  and  I've  got  a  grandmother,  and  she's  coming 
here  to-day  to  keep  house  for  me,  and  her  name's  Nora  Rudd, 
and  she's  a  sister  of  old  Baltimore  at  'The  Glen,'  the  one 
that  married  Grace  Traver,  and  she's  my  mother's  mother ;  and 
I've  got  kin  and  a  name  and  lots  of  money,  and  you're  going 
to  be  my  cook,  and  I'm  going  to  stir  up  things  generally. 
Why  don't  you  laugh  and  shout  like  me  ?  You're  going  to 
have  a  good  time  like  everybody  else  on  these  premises. 
I'm  the  owner  sure  enough,  like  you  told  me  yourself  over 
and  over  again.  Now  yell,  I  tell  you.  If  you  don't  I'll  choke 
one  out  of  you.  One  good  yell  for  joy." 

Catching  her  around  the  neck,  he  continued :  "  Now  yell 
just  as  loud  as  you  can,  or  you'll  never  have  another  chance." 

"  I  will,  I  will,  Mister  Clarence ;  only  let  go  of  me !" 

"  No,  not  till  you  yell  at  the  top  of  your  lungs.  Out  with 
it  now — now !" 

The  old  woman  uttered  a  screech  like  a  witch  in  a  fire. 

"  That's  splendid — that's  music !  Now  here's  a  ten-dollar 
gold-piece  to  buy  you  a  new  gown.  Oh !  I'm  so  glad  to  see 
you  at  Rockview  once  more.  Come  on,  take  me  up  to  the 
house — up — up — away  we  go !" 

He  darted  away  up  the  terraces,  leaving  old  Hannah  stand 
ing  in  bewilderment  over  the  gold  coin  in  her  hand.  It  was 
real,  sure  enough,  and  as  the  consciousness  of  her  good  for 
tune  broke  in  upon  her  startled  brain,  she  laughed  and  cried. 
But  the  voice  of  her  master  shouted  down  to  her  from  the 
terraces : 

"Why  in  the  devil  don't  you  hurry  up  here  with  the 
keys?" 

"I'm  coming,  you  wild  hare,  you,"  muttered  the  old 
woman ;  and  thrusting  her  gold  piece  into  her  pocket,  after 
one  more  glance  at  it,  she  toiled  up  the  stone  steps  after 
him,  puffing  and  blowing,  and  muttering  : 

"  He's  the  same  wild  devil,  and  impatient  as  ever  he  was. 
Oh,  mercy!  but  I'm  upset  altogether.  And  yet  I  always 
said  so;  I  always  did  say  so.  But  who's  his  mother? 


848  STOKMCLTFF. 

That's  what  I  wants  to  know.  Nora  Rudd !  Gracious  king 
doms  alive !  how  on  airth  did  she  git  to  be  Clarence  Hoi- 
den's  grandmother  ?  Yes,  Mr.  Clarence !  I'm  a-coming — 
don't  yell  so — I'm  a-coming  just  as  fast  as  ever  I  can  !" 

In  a  few  minutes  she  stood  upon  the  rock  plateau  of  Rock- 
view  beside  Rutherford,  who  was  waving  his  hat  at  the  river 
view  which  had  burst  upon  his  excited  vision.  It  was  the 
glorious  perspective  which  had  astonished  the  eyes  of  his 
infancy.  Home  again !  The  familiar  view  of  his  childhood 
spread  out  before  him  ;  the  same  onward  sweep  of  the  great 
river;  the  same  mountains,  in  their  hazy,  purple  veils; 
the  same  sea  of  autumn  foliage  beneath  him ;  the  same 
white  sails  of  the  vessels,  glistening  like  wings  as  they 
moved  in  the  sunlight  towards  the  passes  of  the  high 
lands.  And  there,  away  off  towards  the  noontide  sun,  the 
frowning  brow  of  Stormcliff — the  temptation  mountain  of 
his  despair,  the  pulpit  of  his  rescued  soul — there  had  the 
astonished  jailor  seen  the  prediction  verified,  as  he  ascended 
to  the  cupola  of  the  prison  and  pointed  his  telescope  at  a 
small  white  object  waving  from  the  cliff.  There  had  the 
outcast  struggled  and  wrestled  with  God  for  the  power 
which  chains  and  leads  captive  the  souls  of  men.  The  vic 
tory  had  been  won,  the  palm  had  been  accorded  ;  and  in  the 
full  tide  of  success,  the  mystery  of  his  birth  had  rolled  away 
and  vanished  like  the  river  mists,  as  they  float  upwards  past 
the  brow  of  Stoi'm cliff. 

Eagerly  he  took  the  keys  from  the  servant  and  opened  his 
way  through  the  house.  Everything  was  as  it  had  been 
when  he  was  driven  forth  friendless  and  poor  upon  the  world. 
Every  object  with  which  his  youthful  memory  had  been  asso 
ciated,  every  book,  every  picture  which  had  been  his  own 
especial  property  for  years,  was  in  its  old  place.  Nothing  had 
been  removed  from  Rockview  except  the  old  clock  which 
had  been  his  companion  in  exile.  There  he  found  the  por 
trait  of  his  father  and  the  likeness  of  her  whom  he  had  been 
taught  to  regard  as  his  mother.  He  knew  now  that  the 


STOKMCLIFF  349 

lady  of  the  locket  was  his  mother's  sister,  and  that  the  late 
Mrs.  Holden,  whose  face  looked  at  him  from  the  wall,  was 
only  his  reputed  mother.  Everything  connected  with  his 
parentage  seemed  so  strange  to  him,  as  he  wandered  up  and 
down  his  ancestral  halls  with  the  keys  of  ownership  in  his 
hands,  that  he  ceased  at  length  to  speak  with  the  old  servant 
who  followed  him,  and  dropping  upon  a  sofa,  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands,  and  reflected  long  and  earnestly.  The  old 
woman  seeing  him  so  absorbed,  wandered  off  and  left  him 
alone. 

While  Rutherford  dreams,  the  reader  may  gain  admittance 
to  his  silent  brain  by  the  perusal  of  a  letter  which  was  handed 
to  Mrs.  Grace  Baltimore  by  one  of  her  servants  at  "The 
Glen."  The  domestic  informed  her  that  Nora  Rudd  had 
suddenly  taken  her  departure,  and  had  requested  that  the 
letter  be  delivered  only  after  she  had  passed  the  porter',3 
gate.  The  young  widow,  upon  breaking  the  seal, -discovered 
the  solution  of  the  mystery  in  the  following  lines,  in  the 
handwriting  of  the  old  nurse  : 

"  Farewell,  my  darling ! — farewell !  I  leave  you  with  tears 
in  these  aged  eyes,  for  love  like  mine  for  you  is  seldom  known 
on  this  side  of  the  grave ;  for  it  is  a  love  which  has  trampled 
down  pride  to  make  you  happy.  I  am  not  far  from  my  jour 
ney's  end.  I  should  think  of  nothing  now  but  prayer  and 
preparation  for  the  passage  of  the  dark  valley.  And  yet, 
strange  as  it  may  appear  in  one  so  aged  and  so  conscious  of 
her  numbered  days,  I  am  possessed  of  all  the  pride  and  lofty 
feeling  which  appertain  to  a  member  of  an  ancient  family. 
Oh,  Grace,  my  darling !  the  name  of  Baltimore  is  rich  in  asso 
ciations  with  pomp  and  power,  ability  and  prowess.  Un 
known  and  unsuspected,  I  might  have  lived  with  you  till  my 
death.  To  be  near  your  dear  form,  to  cheer  your  lonely 
hours,  and  to  share  your  confidence  and  love,  seemed  too 
much  happiness  to  me,  the  old  and  unknown  nurse  of  the 
highlands.  When  you  wrote  that  letter  to  me  from  abroad 


350  STORMCLfFF. 

and  opened  your  arms  to  your  old  nurse,  I  kneeled  down 
and  entreated  God  to  soften  the  pride  of  my  heart,  that  I 
might  respond  to  your  offer  and  struggle  to  render  you 
happy.  You  have  been  to  me  a  younger  sister  in  kindness, 
and  still  you  were  unconscious  that  you  had  become  my  sister 
by  marriage.  This  unconsciousness  enabled  me  to  stifle 
pride,  and  to  live  in  the  halls  of  my  ancestors  as  a  dependant 
upon  your  bounty.  But  I  loved  you  so,  my  darling,  and  the 
sweetness  of  stealing  glances  over  the  meadows  and  wood 
lands  of  my  girlhood's  home  was  such  a  dear  temptation, 
that  I  consented  day  by  day  to  live  on  under  the  dear  old 
trees,  and  to  be  lulled  asleep  "at  night  by  the  music  of  the 
waterfall  which  had  sung  to  me  in  childhood.  Beside  that 
waterfall  my  magnificent,  my  loving  mother,  Gertrude  Bal 
timore,  taught  me  the  lesson  of  family  pride ;  and  like  her, 
I  gloried  in  the  race  from  which  I  sprang.  But  when  the 
struggle  came  between  my  pride  and  love — when  I  forgot 
my  mother's  teachings  to  follow  the  fate  of  a  man  beneath 
me,  but  beneath  me  only  in  family  consequence,  my  tears 
were  mingled  with  the  dashings  of  that  waterfall.  The 
woman's  heart  triumphed ;  and  I  fled  away  with  him — with 
him  whose  name  I  now  bear. 

"  So  young  was  I  when  I  defied  the  will  of  my  mother, 
and  became  the  wife  of  a  man  whom  she  would  never  recog 
nise  as  her  son,  that  when  1  returned,  long,  long  years  after 
wards,  no  one  knew  me.  Misfortune  pursued  my  wedded 
life.  My  husband  became  very  poor ;  and  in  the  great  city 
I  struggled  hard  for  bread.  My  daughter  was  beautiful ; 
and  in  walking  one  day  upon  a  crowded  thoroughfare  she 
attracted  the  notice  of  a  lawyer,  who  afterwards  attained 
distinction  in  his  profession.  This  gentleman  pursued  his 
inquiries  concerning  her,  and  finally  succeeded  in  forming  an 
acquaintance  with  her,  and  won  her  heart.  They  were  se 
cretly  married  at  the  house. of  an  acquaintance  of  my  daugh 
ter.  The  only  witnesses  who  could  testify  to  the  marriage- 
contract,  shortly  after  the  ceremony  was  performed,  crossed 


STOKMCLIFF.  351 

the  seas  and  were  heard  of  no  more.  After  long  years 
of  waiting  and  watching  for  these  witnesses  to  return — 
after  countless  letters  written  to  every  quarter  of  the  civil 
ized  earth,  I  am  finally  relieved  of  my  anxiety  by  the 
sudden  appearance  of  a  sail-maker  and  his  family  in  this 
country,  who  testify  fully  to  my  daughter's  legal  marriage. 
The  legitimacy  of  my  grandson  is,  to  my  exceeding  great 
joy,  at  last  established.  That  grandson  is  Clarence  Holden, 
whom  you  know  as  Clarence  Rutherford ;  and  his  father  is 
Judge  Holden,  of  this  county,  not  long  deceased.  Before 
Clarence  was  born,  my  daughter,  through  religious  excite 
ment,  became  insane,  and  was  removed  to  an  asylnm.  Re 
port  was  carried  to  Judge  Holden  that  she  was  dead,  and 
immediately  he  married  again.  My  daughter  died  in  giving 
birth  to  Clarence,  and  I  at  once  brought  the  infant  to  this 
county  to  present  to  his  father,  the  Judge.  To  my  horror 
I  found  that  Judge  Holden  was  married  to  another  lady; 
and  upon  the  very  night  of  my  arrival  this  estimable  woman 
was  delivered  of  a  son.  The  Judge  was  absent  from  home, 
but  upon  my  stating  that  I  had  been  a  nurse  in  families  for 
several  years,  this  lady  employed  me  to  attend  her.  Her 
child  died  before  morning ;  and  while  she  was  sleeping  from 
the  effect  of  narcotics.  I  sat  beside  the  living  and  the  dead 
for  a  long  time,  in  earnest  study  of  the  strange  situation  in 
which  I  found  myself.  I  had  no  witnesses  to  prove  my 
daughter's  marriage  or  to  confirm  my  statements.  The  evi 
dence  to  establish  my  grandson's  claims  upon  the  judge 
was,  under  the  most  hopeful  view  of  the  matter,  beyond 
my  reach.  The  witnesses  might  never  return  ;  they  might 
be  dead.  Before  me  was  sleeping  a  lovely  woman,  whose 
life  would  be  rendered  utterly  wretched  by  the  announce 
ment  that  she  had  married  another  woman's  husband.  She 
was  innocent;  and  I  earnestly  hoped  the  Judge  had  also 
some  excuse  for  his  strange  neglect  of  my  child,  after  he 
knew  that  she  had  been  conveyed  to  a  lunatic  asylum. 
Why  not  substitute  my  infant  grandson  for  the  dead  child, 


352  STOBMCLTFF. 

until  such  time  as  the  witnesses  of  my  daughter's  marriage 
should  return  ?  This  question  agitated  me  as  I  sat  in  the 
silent  chamber,  between  the  living  mother  and  the  dead 
child.  The  exchange  would  never  be  known ;  and  should 
difficulty  finally  arise  in  establishing  my  grandson's  claim 
before  a  4egal  tribunal,  the  matter  might  remain  for  ever 
hushed,  and  the  child  would  inherit  the  property  of  Judge 
Holden  as  the  acknowledged  offspring  of  his  supposed  legal 
marriage  with  the  lady  who  was  sleeping  beside  me.  After 
a  careful  examination  of  the  situation,  I  determined  to  make 
the  substitution.  The  house  was  silent  as  the  grave;  and 
taking  the  dead  child  in  my  arms  I  stole  noiselessly  out 
into  the  garden  and  buried  the  infant  in  a  little  box,  and 
levelled  the  grave  to  enable  the  passing  feet  of  persons  on 
the  walk  to  harden  it  like  the  rest  of  the  path.  Then  I  hur 
ried  on  to  the  tavern  where  I  had  left  my  grandchild  in  care 
of  a  woman  who  was  a  transient  guest,  and  arousing  her 
from  her  sleep,  thanked  her  for  her  kindness,  and  returned 
with  my  little  charge  to  the  unconscious  lady  in  the  chamber. 
I  placed  the  infant  on  the  sofa ;  and  when  she  awaked  from  her 
sleep,  she  believed  she  was  looking  upon  the  face  of  her  own 
child.  She  died  in  that  belief,  for  my  witnesses  appeared  to 
be  lost  for  ever,  and  I  deemed  it  unwise  to  avow  the  exchange. 
When  Judge  Holden  returned  he  expressed  his  satisfaction 
at  seeing  me  in  attendance  upon  his  wife  and  child,  and  ad 
vised  me  to  remain  as  a  nurse  in  the  county.  He  had  never 
known  of  my  relationship  to  the  Baltimore  family,  and  as  I 
was  an  outcast  I  cared  not  to  avow  it  myself.  I  discovered 
that  he  had  married  upon  misrepresentations  respecting  the 
death  of  his  lunatic  wife.  He  believed  that  his  first  wife  was 
of  low  origin ;  and  as  I  desired  to  remain  near  my  grandson 
in  the  county  and  unknown,  I  consented  at  his  request  to 
remain  silent,  and  never  opened  my  lips  regarding  his  secret 
marriage  to  my  daughter.  I  was  fearful  of  the  eventual  fail 
ure  of  my  witnesses.  The  Judge  often  supplied  my  wants 
when  I  was  reduced  by  sickness,  and  remained  my  friend 


STORMCLIFF.  353 

up  to  the  time  of  liis  death.  "What  was  my  amazement  to 
learn  that  Clarence  was  disinherited  by  his  will,  and  that  a 
suspicion  of  exchange  of  children  existed  in  his  mind.  How 
this  suspicion  became  fastened  upon  him  I  cannot  conceive. 
When  ^discovered  that  my  grandchild  was  an  outcast,  I 
commenced  immediately  more  vigorous  efforts  than  ever  be 
fore  to  trace  out,  by  the  medium  of  letters,  the  whereabouts 
of  the  sail-maker's  family.  One  of  my  letters  at  last  reached 
them.  They  returned  ;  and  upon  application  to  the  person 
to  whom  the  Judge  had  conveyed  his  property  in  trust,  I 
found  that  he  was  honest  enough  to  admit  the  weight  of  my 
proofs,  and  he  has  placed  the  entire  property  of  Judge  Hoi- 
den  at  my  grandson's  disposal. 

"  When  I  first  arrived  in  the  city  of  New  York,  after  my 
own  secret  marriage,  I  recollected  that  my  mother  had  sent, 
months  before,  to  the  city  an  old  family  clock  of  the  Balti- 
mores  to  be  repaired.  She  had  always  given  me  to  under 
stand  that  she  intended  it  to  be  my  property  upon  my  mar 
riage.  I  proceeded  at  once  to  the  shop  of  the  clockmaker, 
who  knew  me,  and  claiming  the  clock,  caused  it  to  be  re 
moved  to  my  husband's  little  home.  During  my  sojourn  at 
the  residence  of  Judge  Holden,  in  attendance  upon  his  wife 
and  infant  child,  I  deemed  it  advisable  to  place  the  venerable 
relic  of  the  past  in  a  situation  where  it  would  be  appreciated 
for  its  quaint  old  beauty,  and  where  it  could  always  be  sub 
ject  to  the  claim  of  my  grandson.  I  caused  a  letter  to  be 
sent  to  the  Judge,  accompanied  by  the  clock.  It  purported 
to  be  a  present  to  the  young  heir  of  Rockview  from  an 
anonymous  friend.  Judge  Holden  was  much  mystified  at  the 
arrival  of  this  enormous  gift,  but  he  never  succeeded  in 
tracing  out  the  donor.  I  suppose  my  mother  inquired,  be 
fore  her  death,  for  the  clock  in  New  York,  and  ascertaining 
that  I  had  removed  it,  was  unwilling  to  approach  my  lowly 
home  to  reclaim  it.  Upon  one  of  my  visits  to  the  city,  in 
attendance  upon  Judge  Holden's  wife,  I  took  the  little  boy 
Clarence  to  see  my  second  daugthter,  Constance,  who  was  a 


354  STOEMCLIFF. 

few  years  younger  than  his  mother,  and  resembled  her 
strongly.  An  artist  painted  a  miniature  of  Constance  hold 
ing  the  little  Clarence  in  her  lap.  I  concealed  that  picture 
upon  my  return  to  the  country  in  the  works  of  the  old  clock, 
at  the  residence  of  the  Judge.  In  those  works  Clarence 
found  it,  and  has  often  exhibited  it  to  me  in  wonder  and 
inquiry.  Poor  boy,  he  has  the  heart  of  a  woman  and  the  will 
of  an  emperor.  He  has  won  a  name  and  position  under 
obstacles  which  would  have  crushed  most  men  of  keenly 
sensitive  natures ;  and  now  fortune  has  been  added  to  his 
self-made  triumph.  I  go  in  duty  to  live  and  die  for  him.  I 
am  proud  of  the  young  giant  of  the  highlands.  The  Bal 
timore  blood  courses  his  veins.  That  blood  sometimes 
impels  to  unwise  and  inconsiderate  acts — to  revenge,  even — 
but  to  dishonor,  never.  I  shall  live  and  die  with  him. 

"  But  I  leave  you,  Grace — my  baby — with  anguish.  You 
are  so  sweet  and  noble,  and  still  so  lonely  in  life.  I  cannot 
remain  with  you,  because  the  flight  of  secresy  has  unveiled 
my  Baltimore  pride.  Love  God  and  keep  His  command 
ments  ;  and  remember  the  proud,  foolish  old  woman  who 
loved  you  so  that  she  lingered  beside  you  as  a  dependant  in 
the  halls  of  her  ancestors — who  first  hid  her  mother's  portrait, 
and  afterwards  caused  it  to  be  painted  in  false  colors,  that 
you  might  not  recognise  the  resemblance  to  the  daughter 
who  was  your  old  nurse.  Go  to  my  deserted  room,  Grace, 
and  in  a  vial  behind  a  clock  you  will  find  a  fluid  which  will 
wash  away  the  false  eyes  of  Gertrude  Baltimore,  and  then 
you  will  discover  how  much  that  proud  woman  resembled 
me.  God  bless  you,  my  baby,  and  give  you  that  peace  which 
th«  world  can  never  give  or  take  away.  Hereafter  I  shall 
meet  you  as  my  equal,  but  with  the  same  yearning  tender 
ness  as  of  old.  My  feet  and  my  heart  reluctantly  leave  'The 
Glen,'  but  pride  and  duty  have  been  ever  the  choice  of  the 
Baltimores.  God  keep  you  ever ! 

"NOEA." 


STOEMCLIFF.  855 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

GEACE  BALTIMORE  possessed  within  herself  great  resources 
for  enjoyment.  When  the  human  idols  of  her  existence  had 
proved  unworthy  of  her  regard,  or  had,  at  the  beck  of  fate, 
passed  away  from  the  vision  of  her  daily  life,  she  was  not 
destitute  of  objects  which  could  chain  her  admiration  or  her 
appreciation.  The  reserve  of  her  father  had  not  softened  in. 
her  regard.  Indeed,  so  conscious  had  he  become  of  the  re 
straint  which  always  attended  his  daughter's  interviews  with 
him,  that  he  gradually  neglected  her,  and  his  visits  to  "The 
Glen"  became  in  time  like  angel  visits,  few  and  far  between. 
He  liked  not  to  face  those  clear,  honest  eyes,  which  seemed 
always  to  be  demanding  explanations  of  the  evasive  remarks 
he  had  employed  at  that  last  attempt  at  confidence.  He 
knew  it  was  impossible  ever  to  explain  her  untimely  mar 
riage  and  still  retain  her  respect.  He  knew  that  his  daugh 
ter's  consciousness  was  now  perfectly  developed.  That  her 
womanly  perceptions  were  clear,  and  that  she  was  looking 
back  with  wonder  at  the  early  sacrifice  of  herself  which  he 
had  permitted — nay  more,  demanded.  He  knew  her  heart 
was  yearning  for  love,  but  that  her  pride  would  never  allow 
her  to  seek  it  from  him  when  mutual  confidence  was  want 
ing.  Her  developed  beauty  of  person  and  intellect  none 
could  appreciate  more  than  himself.  His  natural  refinement 
of  taste  and  heart  would  have  impelled  him  to  take  her  in 
his  arms,  love  her  devotedly,  arid  make  her  the  companion 
of  his  intellect  and  his  studies.  But,  alas !  sin  destroys  even 
the  intensity  of  parental  affection,  and  the  consciousness  of 
his  daughter's  integrity  and  purity  made  him  feel  uneasy  and 
dissatisfied  in  her  presence.  He  lived  now  almost  entirely 
alone  in  his  gloomy  home,  as  he  did  before  her  return  from 
abroad.  He  had  failed  to  entangle  Miss  Angier  in  his  snare, 
and  her  cool,  scornful,  contemptuous  manner  made  his  visits 
of  ceremony  at  "  The  Glen"  exceedingly  disagreeable.  For- 


356  STOEMCLIFF. 

tnne  had  favored  Nicholas  Traver  in  regard  to  the  lunatic 
lady  who  hud  gained  possession  of  the  secret  agreement. 
He  had  instituted  a  search  for  her,  and  succeeded  in  securing 
her  person  and  the  document  also.  She  had  escaped  from 
the  old  gardener's  custody  on  the  night  of  the  masquerade ; 
and  after  the  surprise  of  Nicholas  Traver  in  the  garden,  she 
had  wandered  up  and  down  the  country  until  his  agents 
discovered  her  and  sent  her  off  again  to  the  asylum.  He 
regained  possession  of  the  agreement  and  destroyed  it.  The 
evil  ones  of  the  earth  have  their  limit  of  success,  and  his  day 
of  perfect  retribution  had  not  yet  arrived. 

Mrs.  Baltimore's  loss  of  her  friend  and  companion,  the  old 
nurse,  overwhelmed  her  for  a  time ;  but  as  the  autumn  days 
wore  away,  she  contrived  to  find  much  consolation  in  the 
reflection  that  the  old  lady  had  gone  to  be  the  comfort  and 
assistant  of  the  brilliant  and  lonely  being  who  was  the 
star  of  her  own  secret  adoration.  He  would  derive  benefit 
from  her  loss.  That  was  a  precious  thought.  It  was 
the  satisfaction  of  a  true  woman's  love.  How  willingly 
would  she  relinquish  any  society  which  could  comfort 
and  cheer  him.  Was  he  not  sad  and  weary  of  life  ?  Had 
he  not  suffered  the  agonies  of  shame  and  contempt  ?  Was 
he  not  still  brooding  over  her  supposed  rejection  of  his 
love  ?  Were  not  natures  like  his  more  keenly  susceptible  to 
the  desolation  and  despair  of  unreciprocated  love  ?  She  felt 
that  this  was  true,  and  still  was  there  no  way  to  rectify  the 
mistake.  A  woman's  love  must  smoulder  and  inward  burn 
until  the  man  declares  his  passion  to  her  alone.  She  cannot 
move,  she  cannot  speak  in  the  interest  of  her  heart,  and  the 
world,  conventionalism  states  the  unsatisfactory  reason : 
"  She  is  a  woman."  The  fact  of  his  love  was  written  in  cha 
racters  of  fire  upon  her  consciousness.  But  what  availed  it  ? 
Alas !  why  did  she  not,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  of 
the  case,  exert  her  powerful  will — make  one  of  those  earnest 
sacrifices  of  herself  which  made  her  so  brilliant  in  times  of 
public  calamity,  and  stamped  upon  her  brow  the  verdict  of 


STOEMCLIFF.  357 

hearts,  "heroine?"  Because,  and  only  because,  love  makes 
the  bold  heart  timid,  gentle,  fearful.  There  was  a  slumber 
ing  fire  in  that  woman's  heart  which,  under  the  influence  of 
one  single  word  of  love  from  her  idol,  would  have  burst  forth 
to  life.  She  would  have  given  the  one  happy  gaze  into  his 
eyes,  and  then  flung  herself  in  utter  abandonment  upon  his 
heart.  It  would  have  been  a  love  worth  possessing — that, . 
devotion  of  a  high-born  soul.  Two  such  natures  blending 
are  the  realization  of  the  ideal,  the  glimpse  of  the  celestial 
city,  the  fact  of  eternity.  Both  honored  God,  and  both  were 
honored  of  men.  Why  did  the  two  remain  apart  ?  Why, 
in  the  counsels  of  Heaven,  was  this  mistake  allowed  to  exist  ? 
There  are  eyes  that  will  read  this  question,  and  the  memory 
it  will  recall  will  fill  those  eyes  with  tears,  and  something 
will  press  upon  the  heart  with  a  faint,  weary  sensation  that 
death  is  not  so  painful  as  early  youth  imagines,  and  the 
aspiration  will  go  up  towards  the  blue  sky,  "  There,  up  there, 
it  will  all  be  made  right."  These  intense  emotions  are  given 
to  us  by  the  Creator  for  some  wise  purpose.  He  makes  the 
human  heart  to  love  one  being  better,  and  with  more  absorb 
ing  passion  than  any  other.  He  causes  that  heart  to  turn 
back  to  the  one  image  ever,  with  the  constancy  of  the  child 
for  its  one  mother.  No  form  so  precious,  no  eye  so  dazzling, 
no  musical  voice  so  sweet  as  that.  Had  not  that  misunder 
standing  arisen — that  word  been  so  strangely  misconstrued — 
that  letter  so  mysteriously  lost — that  intermeddling  friend  so 
inconsiderate,  how  transcendently  happy  and  beautiful  would 
our  mutual  love  and  life  have  been  !  This  is  the  secret  medi 
tation — the  silent  pang  of  many  a  heart.  Ah!  why  did  we 
not  break  through  every  barrier  of  modesty  and  custom 
when  we  felt  that  we  were  loved  ?  We  should  have  been 
most  certainly  received  and  pressed  tightly  to  an  agonized 
and  lonely  heart.  And  now  it  is  too  late.  We  are  parted 
for  Time.  Our  hope  is  in  Eternity. 

Grace  Baltimore  did  not  speak.    He  had  fled  away  from  her 
home  and  her  hospitality  in  chagrin  and  despair ;  and  the 


358  STORMCLIFF. 

proud,  loving  woman,  with  a  gasp  of  mortal  agony,  fell  on  her 
knees  and  whispered  to  God  that  she  was  now  indeed  alone. 
She  prayed  for  strength  to  live  alone  and  to  die  alone,  to 
accomplish  her  duty  alone,  and  to  cling  to  the  promises  of  God 
and  suffer  alone.  Kate  Angier  noticed  that  the  young  widow 
seemed  to  draw  closer  to  her,  to  appreciate  her  qualities 
better,  and  to  modulate  her  voice  to  a  sweeter  strain  of  en 
dearment  than  she  had  ever  done  before.  She  felt  that  her 
companionship  was  more  necessary  to  Grace,  but  she  did 
not  conjecture  why.  The  arrow  was  buried  deep,  and  the 
wound  was  carefully  concealed  from  her.  She  only  saw  that 
the  buds  of  taste  and  power  in  Mrs.  Baltimore's  brain  were 
rapidly  developing  now ;  that  she  was  finding  beauty,  hid 
den  meanings,  harmonies,  hopes,  God,  in  every  leaf  and  every 
floating  cloud.  Music  was  in  greater  demand,  poetry  a  more 
frequent  guest  of  their  intercourse,  and  the  contemplation 
of  nature  a  more  constant  study.  The  mistress  of  "The 
Glen"  was  becoming  more  devoted  to  the  sublime  poetry  of 
the  Scriptures.  She  struck  a  new  chord  of  enthusiasm  in 
her  friend's  intellect  when  her  voice  repeated  the  prophecies 
of  Isaiah,  or  murmured  in  the  gentle  accents  of  the  Teacher  of 
Galilee.  On  the  stairway  of  nature  and  love  her  soul  was 
mounting  upwards  to  God,  and  on  every  landing  of  the  ascent 
she  was  uttering  secret  prayers  for  the  noble  one  who 
dreamed  of  her  at  Rockview.  She  heard  of  the  young  ora 
tor  often.  He  was  strenuously  pursuing  his  calling ;  and  the 
impression  was  gaining  ground  that  he  was  irresistible  be 
fore  any  jury,  and  a  respectable  power  before  any  bench  of 
judges.  His  voice  was  gaining  power  and  compass  from 
continual  practice,  and  his  eloquent  phrases  were  becoming 
household  words.  There  were  no  more  slurs  upon  his  cha 
racter,  no  more  omissions  of  his  name  from  society's  list  of 
invitations.  Success  and  wealth  soften  and  gild  the  tongues  of 
the  slanderous.  He  was  universally  admired  and  courted  now, 
and  his  grandmother,  the  prophetess,  shared  his  popularity. 
But  in  the  great  soul  of  Mrs.  Baltimore  a  new  sensation 


STOKMCLIFF.  359 

was  destined  to  be  born.  An  emotion,  often  deemed  of  men 
the  attribute  solely  of  weak  and  inferior  minds,  but  in  the 
judgment  of  many  the  necessary  concomitant  of  true  love, 
was  to  fill  her  heart.  The  town  was  to  receive  a  new  sensa 
tion.  A  new  heroine  was  advancing ;  a  martyr  was  ap 
proaching  ;  and  her  pale  brows  were  encircled  by  a  wreath 
so  exquisitely  beautiful,  that  when  men  looked  upon  it  they 
shed  tears  and  recalled  the  sublime  sacrifices  of  the  past  ages. 
She  was  coming  at  the  proper  moment,  too.  The  orator  of 
the  highlands  was  nearing  the  summit  of  universal  popular 
ity.  He  was  the  favorite  of  the  majority,  and  soon,  no  doubt, 
he  would  gather  to  his  control  the  majority  of  his  opponents. 
He  was  near  that  pinnacle  of  fame  where  men  pass  from  the 
throne  of  respect  up  to  the  throne  of  love.  The  world  was 
beginning  to  learn  that  the  orator  was  struggling  upwards 
less  for  love  of  fame  than  for  love  of  truth.  But  the  martyr 
was  coming ;  and  while  the  very  hills  themselves  were  echo 
ing  the  praise  of  power  and  noble  effort  on  the  part  of  Judge 
Holden's  son,  the  music  of  the  sublime  and  the  beautiful  was 
faintly  rising  from  the  distance. 

The  owner  of  Rockview  was  seated  one  morning  in  the 
library  of  his  lofty  home,  in  consultation  with  his  friend  the 
Rev.  Charles  Heron.  The  intimacy  established  under  the 
clouds  of  shame  and  reproach  had  ripened  into  an  indissolu 
ble  love  long  before  the  sun  of  success  had  arisen.  To  the 
faithful  and  consistent  servant  of  Christ  was  Clarence  Hoi  den 
indebted  for  the  encouragement  which  had  sustained  him 
after  Nora  had  intervened  between  him  and  the  angel  of 
death.  The  outcast  had  been  persuaded  to  occupy  a  seat  in 
the  clergyman's  pew,  while  Marie  still  remained  to  listen  to 
her  father's  preaching.  Time  and  success  had  removed  the 
strangeness  of  his  position  in  that  pew.  He  was  respected 
and  honored,  devout  and  constant  in  attendance  at  the  house 
of  God.  Eyes  which  had  stolen  glances  of  commiseration 
or  surprise  at  the  clergyman's  protege  had  learned  to  change 
their  expression  during  the  progress  of  divine  service.  He 


360  STORMCLIFF. 

had  passed  through  the  successive  stages  of  reproach,  tolera 
tion,  respect,  honor ;  and  now  he  took  his  seat  there  as  one 
whom  ambitious  mothers  or  speculative  politicians  contem 
plated  as  an  advantageous  match  for  their  daughters.  The 
orator,  the  wit,  the  author,  the  heir,  had  become  a  power  in 
the  town  which  had  trampled  upon  him.  There  had  been  no 
change  in  him  as  regarded  his  integrity,  his  sincerity,  or  his 
real  character.  Society  had  forgotten  Jesus  when  they  looked 
coldly  upon  the  unfortunate  young  man.  But  he  had  learned 
to  respect  religion  in  the  person  of  Nora  and  the  clergyman  ; 
he  had  imitated  them  and  turned  to  God.  Instead  of  be 
coming  a  suicide  or  a  reprobate,  as  the  cruelty  or  thought 
lessness  of  church  members  had  tended  to  make  him,  he  had 
arisen  a  star  upon  society.  That  star  had  been  marked  upon 
the  great  book  of  the  recording  angel  to  the  credit  of  old 
Nora  and  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron.  "  For  I  was  an  hungered, 
and  ye  gave  me  meat ;  I  was  thirsty,  and  ye  gave  me  drink ; 
I  was  a  stranger,  and  ye  took  me  in ;  naked,  and  ye  clothed 
me ;  I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me ;  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye 
came  unto  me." 

When  Marie  had  fled,  the  young  lawyer  had  been  the 
first  to  approach  the  clergyman  and  offer  his  services  to 
track  her  out  and  rescue  her  from  her  mysterious  fate.  Find 
ing  that  silence  was  demanded  of  him,  and  silence  only,  he 
drew  nearer  to  the  clergyman  in  sympathy  and  attention ; 
and  sacrificing  comfort  and  ambition  often,  he  endeavored 
by  his  society  and  congenial  literary  intercourse  to  alleviate 
the  distress  of  the  deserted  father.  His  efforts  were  appre 
ciated  ;  and  in  time  there  were  few  interests  in  life  which 
were  not  shared  by  the  two.  The  first  man  at  Rockview 
after  the  restoration  was  the  clergyman,  the  first  warm  grasp 
of  the  hand  was  his,  the  first  ardent  tears  of  joy  aud  sympa 
thy  were  his. 

The  reverend  gentleman  had  come  on  the  present  occasion 
at  the  solicitation  of  Judge  Holden's  son,  to  confer  with  him 
as  to  the  propriety  and  expediency  of  accepting  a  nomination 


STORMCLIFF.  361 

to  the  Congress  of  the  nation,  which  many  friends  of  the 
lawyer  were  determined  upon  securing  for  him.  Clarence 
Holden's  eloquence  and  integrity  were  required  at  the  Capi 
tol.  The  clergyman  had  insisted  upon  the  lawyer's  accept 
ance  with  vehemence,  and  the  orator  had  finally  acquiesced 
in  his  views.  While  the  subject  was  still  under  considera 
tion  a  servant  had  been  standing  behind  his  master's  chair, 
awaiting  a  pause  to  interrupt  the  discussion  and  present  a 
letter  to  the  clergyman.'  A  favorable  opportunity  occurred, 
and  the  missive  was  delivered  with  these  words : 

"  The  clerk  at  the  post-office,  sir,  sent  this  letter  by  a  mes 
senger.  He  knew  the  handwriting,  and  thought  you  would 
like  to  have  it  right  away." 

The  father's  countenance  changed  to  a  deathly  pallor  as 
he  recognised  the  handwriting  of  his  child. 

"  Oh  !  Marie,  my  lost  Marie !  God,  my  Father,  has  answer 
ed  my  prayer.  Oh  !  Clarence,  this  is  from  my  darling  child." 

He  tore  the  letter  open  and  read  eagerly,  silently.  The 
lawyer  watched  every  change  in  his  countenance.  Joy,  sur 
prise,  tenderness,  followed  each  other  as  he  read,  and  the 
young  man  wondered  when  he  would  reach  the  end.  Emo 
tion,  intense  emotion,  was  thrilling  his  own  heart.  Could 
he  ever  forget  the  beautiful,  graceful  girl,  who  had  stood  by 
his  side  when  the  storm  of  prejudice  was  raging — when  he 
was  an  outcast  ?  Could  he  ever  forget  the  trembling,  timid 
angel  of  charity  who  had  appeared  to  him  as  he  was  stretch 
ed  upon  his  lonely  couch  in  the  grasp  of  the  fearful  cholera? 
No  !  If  one  quality  of  heart  was  uppermost  in  the  organi 
zation  of  "Golden-Lip,"  it  was  gratitude.  .  Where  was  this 
lovely  daughter  of  song  wandering?  Where  was  the  fawn- 
foot  treading  ?  Where  was  the  refined  tone  and  the  ardent 
spirit  warming  the  hearts  of  her  listeners?  She  might  have 
misjudged;  but  she  never  had  sinned  for  love's  sake.  Ho 
knew  this  always,  and  stoutly  maintained  it  in  her  defence, 
when  society  speculated  upon  her  disappearance.  How  ten 
der  had  been  her  appreciation  and  friendship  for  himself! 

16 


362  STORMCLIFF. 

How  like  a  dream  of  poetry  had  she  hovered  upon  his  con 
sciousness  !  How  ardent  her  poetic  soul !  how  soothing  her 
presence !  Why  did  not  her  father  divulge  the  contents 
of  the  letter  to  him,  who  esteemed  them  both  so  highly  ? 
Strange  passions  were  flitting  across  the  reader's  counte 
nance.  He  was  nearing  the  end.  It  was  reached  at  last, 
and  the  letter  was  crushed  in  his  hand.  He  looked  up  tit 
the  lawyer.  Oh !  that  look. 

."  She  has  saved  you,  Clarence  !  my  glorious  child  has 
saved  you." 

"Where  is  she?  What  can  you  mean?"  exclaimed  the 
listener,  rising  eagerly  from  his  seat. 

"She  is  in  the  State  Prison,"  was  the  trembling  reply. 
"  Dear,  noble  girl !  she  has  fulfilled  her  idea  of  atonement. 
She  has  sacrificed  all  that  was  dear  to  her  on  earth,  that  you 
might  be  saved  and  honored.  She  has  become  a  felon  to 
shield  you.  The  gentle  and  the  high-bred  has  chosen  a  con 
vict's  chain  that  you  might  breathe  the  pure  air  untram 
melled  ;  that  your  genius  might  expand  and  bless  your  fellow- 
men.  Oh !'  such  a  sacrifice.  Oh !  the  glory  and  the  honor 
of  being  that  girl's  father." 

He  bowed  his  head  and  wept  long,  convulsively.  Then 
he  arose,  and  placing  his  hands  upon  the  shoulders  of  the 
young  athlete  who  stood  before  him  in  bewilderment,  he 
said :  •  • 

"  You  are  a  noble  young  man.  God  has  high  destinies  in 
store  for  you,  as  He  permits  and  ordains  that  the  young  and 
the  beautiful  shall  appreciate,  and  sacrifice,  and  suffer  for 
you.  Sit  down  now  beside  me,  and  listen  to  this  letter. 
You  may  as  well  know  its  contents  at  once.  The  world  will 
trumpet  it — my  friends  will  rejoice  that  a  father's  heart  and 
pride  are  comforted  by  the  return  of  a  daughter  in  honor. 
Sit  down  and  listen.  She  loved  and  honored  you;  and  I  do 
not  wonder,  for  I  love  and  honor  you  too." 

The  lawyer  resumed  his  seat  and  listened  in  amazement 
to  these  lines : 


STOKMCLIFF.  363 

"  MY  PRECIOUS  FATHER  : 

"  Your  Marie  is  coming  back  to  your  arms.  Will  you 
receive  me  in  forgiveness  for  my  desertion  ?  I  know  that  my 
sacrifice  is  now  complete,  and  no  harm  can  ever  come  nigh 
Mr.  Rutherford.  He  is  ascending  higher  and  still  higher 
towards  the  temple ;  and  it  is  so  sweet  to  realize  that  I  have 
aided  and  saved  him.  Oh  !  how  his  enemies  hovered  about 
his  path  to  ruin  and  destroy  him ;  and  Fate  with  her  cruel  eye 
gave  them  countenance ;  they  would  have  triumphed  then. 
The  frenzy  of  political  hate  and  power  would  have  convicted 
him,  and  the  convict's  irons  would  have  penetrated  to  his 
heart,  and  the  eagle  of  the  highlands  would  have  perished 
in  despair.  Oh  !  will  you  forgive  your  Marie  for  trying  to 
imitate  her  father?  Did  you  not  say,  'Marie,  we  must  make 
a  sacrifice  for  God  ?'  What  more  earnest  a  sacrifice  than 
to  save  an  innocent  man  from  shame ;  to  avert  the  accumu 
lated  wrongs  which  would  crush  and  destroy  for  ever  a 
bright  intellect  ?  I  knew  he  was  innocent ;  Mr.  Traver 
knew  he  was  innocent.  But  he  declared  to  me  that  Ruther 
ford  would  be  lost  unless  the  man  in  the  grey  clothes  was 
secured  and  convicted ;  that  only  could  save  him. 

"  Oh !  my  father,  listen  to  me  and  forgive  me.  A  woman 
cannot  aid  her  race  as  her  heart  prompts.  She  cannot  con 
tend  in  the  councils  of  men ;  she  cannot  render  practical  her 
aspirations  by  the  aid  of  oratory  and  the  arts  which  govern 
minds.  But  she  can  sacrifice  and  suiFer  for  those  to  whom 
God  has  given  the  power  of  swaying  intellect.  And  thus  I 
determined  to  save  Mr.  Rutherford,  that  his  sincerity 
and  love  for  truth  might  remain  as  a  blessing  for  my 
country. 

"  There  was  an  artist  visiting  at '  The  Glen.'  Our  tastes  and 
sympathies  regarding  art  were  congenial.  He  admired  my 
sketches,  and  praised  them.  He  admitted  me  to  the  secrets 
of  his  coloring.  He  even  explained  to  me  a  mystery  of 
coloring  and  disguising  real  flesh  which  he  had  learned 
during  his  travels  in  the  East.  I  learned  to  make  a  com- 


364  STOKMCLIFF. 

bination  of  chemicals  which  produces  a  wash  for  the  face 
effecting  a  perfect  disguise.  This  coloring  will  not  wear  off 
for  months.  Water  will  not  affect  it,  and  a  knowledge  of 
another  chemical  combination  is  required  to  remove  it  from 
the  skin.  1  resolved  to  employ  this  knowledge  to  avert  Mr. 
Rutherford's  fate.  Oh !  how  my  heart  trembled  at  first. 
But  I  grew  bolder  and  stronger,  the  nearer  the  day  of  trial 
approached.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  thus  be  worthy 
of  you  and  your  character  for  sacrifice.  It  seemed  to  mo 
that  Mr.  Rutherford's  imprisonment  for  years  would  break 
my  heart.  I  carefully  prepared  my  materials  for  accomplish 
ing  the  disguise.  Every  day  I  secured  some  article  of  men's 
wearing  apparel  and  secreted  it.  At  last  my  arrangements 
were  completed,  and  I  desired  Mr.  Traver  to  drive  me  to  the 
town.  He  left  me  at  the  dry-goods  store,  and  after  making 
a  few  trifling  purchases,  I  hastened  off  to  the  vacant  building 
where  I  had  secreted  my  male  apparel.  I  arrayed  myself  in 
this,  and  cut  my  hair  short  like  a  man.  Then  I  found,  upon 
looking  into  my  little  mirror,  that  I  was  a  bronzed,  hardened- 
looking  young  culprit ;  my  face  and  neck  and  hands  were 
bronzed  utterly  beyond  recognition.  Then  I  hid  my  own 
garments,  and  wandering  forth,  I  disguised  my  voice  as  best 
I  could,  and  inquired  my  way  to  a  magistrate's  office.  I  de 
clared  myself  to  have  been  one  of  the  two  men  who  robbed 
the  bank.  I  gave  the  name  of  the  other  robber  as  a  sailor 
who  had  enticed  me  into  the  plunder  of  the  money  and 
bonds.  I  was  taken  for  a  young  sailor  myself,  who  wns 
penitent  and  sought  for  mercy ;  I  declared  that  I  had  dropped 
the  money  as  I  ran  past  Mr.  Rutherford,  and  that  he  wns 
entirely  innocent.  My  testimony  was  deemed  sufficient,  and 
on  the  opening  of  the  court,  I  was  conducted  before  it,  and 
on  my  own  confession  and  statements  I  was  found  guilty. 
Oh!  how  happy  I  was  when  I  was  pronounced  guilty  and 
ordered  off  to  prison.  I  felt  that  Mr.  Rutherford  was  saved. 
That  he  would  have  time  at  least  to  clear  himself  when 
the  prejudices  of  the  day  should  have  been  forgotten.  When 


STORMCLIFF.  365 

I  reached  the  State  Prison,  I  had  a  vial  of  the  coloring  fluid 
concealed  about  me,  which  I  contrived  to  retain  possession 
of,  to  be  prepared  for  any  indication  of  my  disguise  wearing 
off.  I  knew  that  prisoners  of  skill  and  chemical  knowledge 
were  sometimes  employed  in  the  apothecary's  department 
of  the  prison.  I  had  heard  so,  at  all  events ;  and  I  conven  I 
in  such  a  way  that  I  was  assigned  to  that  department.  But 
oh!  how  weary,  how  horrible,  has  been  my  confinement. 
The  bright  star  of  my  gloomy  night  was  the  conscious 
ness  that  the  young  orator  of  my  native  hills  was  free  and 
soaring  upwards,  day  by  day,  to  that  height  which  God  de 
signed  for  him.  My  tears  in  my  cell  were  for  you  in  your 
loneliness,  my  dear  father.  But  I  knew  when  my  time  had 
expired  you  would  love  and  honor  your  Marie  for  saving 
poor  Mr.  Rutherford.  I  thought,  too,  of  the  Lamb  of  God, 
who  suffered  all  things  for  us,  and  how  little  a  matter  it  was 
for  me,  who  had  never  been  of  any  use  in  the  world,  to  suffer 
a  few  years  of  confinement  within  stone  walls  to  save  a  noble, 
struggling  child  of  genius  from  the  cruelty  of  men.  Every 
word,  every  counsel  you  had  ever  given  your  Marie,  was 
remembered  in  this  prison,  and  sometimes  the  tears  which 
trickled  down  upon  my  lips  tasted  sweet,  as  if  I  had  indeed 
secured  the  favor  of  God. 

"  But  oh !  my  father,  how  my  wild  heart  bounded  with  joy 
when  they  told  me  that  I  was  free.  A  convict  was  brought 
here  a  few  days  ago  who  had  been  guilty  of  a  robbery.  He 
confessed,  after  he  was  condemned,  that  he  had  assisted  also 
in  the  plunder  of  our  bank,  and  exposed  his  accomplice,  and 
declared  that  I  had  never  had  anything  to  do  with  it.  The 
Governor  of  the  State  has  been  here  to  see  me,  and  lie  shed 
tears  when  he  heard  my  story,  and  put  his  hands  on  my 
head  and  tried  to  speak,  but  he  could  not.  I  know  now  that 
I  have  saved  Rutherford  ;  and  I  am  so  proud  and  happy  that 
my  poor  life  has  been  of  service  to  some  one  of  my  race.  I 
know  Mr.  Rutherford  will  feel  kindly  towards  poor  Marie 
now  as  long  as  he  lives.  I  would  still  be  willing  to  make 


366  STOEMCLTFF. 

any  sacrifice  to   enable  him  to  win  that  ideal   summit  of 
fame  and  purity  whither  his  great  soul  tends. 

"  I  was  so  patient,  dear  father,  so  long  as  there  was  any 
danger  for  him ;  but  now  that  I  know  the  world  will  acquit 
him,  I  am  impatient  to  be  out  again  where  I  can  look  once 
more  upon  the  blue  sky,  and  the  river,  and  the  hills  of  my 
childhood.  They  tell  me  I  must  wait  until  I  am  stronger. 
I  am  lying  now  upon  my  bed,  where  excitement  has  flung 
me  ;  but  I  know  I  shall  be  well  when  you  come  for  me,  and 
take  me  home,  and  forgive  me.  Your  own  Marie  has  not 
deserted  you,  but  only  given  a  little  of  her  life  and  youth  to 
the  noble  and  the  good.  I  want  yon  to  come  for  me  as  soon 
as  you  can ;  and  when  I  am  once  more  in  your  arras,  you 
will  realize  how  dearly  and  truly  you  have  ever  been  wor 
shipped  by  your  little 

"MARIE." 

"  P.  S. — I  know  I  shall  be  stronger  and  better  when  you 
touch  me  again.  It  is  so  hard  to  live  without  the  presence 
of  those  we  love.  Do  not  be  anxious ;  I  am  only  weak.  I 
hope  I  shall  be  well  soon." 


CHAPTER 

"  AND  so  you  were  present  at  their  first  interview,  Annie. 
Was  it  in  the  parlor  of  the  Rector's  house  ?  " 

This  question  was  addressed  to  the  sewing-girl  at  "  The 
Glen  "  by  the  young  widow,  as  she  leaned  comfortably  back 
in  her  arm-chair,  with  her  head  resting  against  its  green  lea 
ther  back.  She  was  robed  in  white,  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
her  lounging  attitude.  The  summer  sun  was  blazing  fiercely 
without,  but  its  rays  were  carefully  excluded  from  the  room, 
save  at  the  narrow  space  where  the  shutter  was  opened  to 
aid  the  sewing-girl  at  her  work. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Baltimore,  I  saw  it  all.     I  was  making  her 


STORMCLIFF.  367 

^  •  » 

winter  dresses.  Poor  thing,  she  was  almost  destitute.  No 
thing  would  fit  her  of  her  old  dresses,  and  I  was  making  up 
everything  new  for  her.  You  see  she  had  grown  very  thin. 
She  was  so  pale  and  changed  every  way,  that  I'm  sure  I 
should  never  have  known  her  out  of  her  father's  house." 

"  Did  he  appear  to  be  much  affected  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Bal 
timore. 

"  Oh,  yes,  ma'am — I  never  saw  such  an  expression  on  any 
man's  face.  He  said  nothing  but, '  Oh,  Miss  Heron  !  oh,  Miss 
Heron  !'  and  then  he  fell  down  on  his  knees,  and  laying  his 
face  on  her  hand,  he  covered  it  with  tears.  He  never  spoke 
another  word ;  but  rising  up,  he  walked  away  to  the  win 
dow  where  her  father  was  standing,  and  tried  to  conceal  his 
emotion,  but  he  couldn't  do  it.  His  head  struck  against  the 
window,  and  he  shook  with  feeling.  He  appreciated  it  all,  I 
assure  you.  After  a  while,  he  came  back  to  her  side,  and 
drawing  a  chair  up  to  her,  he  sat  down  and  said  :  '  As  long 
as  my  life  lasts,  Miss  Heron,  everything  that  bears  the  mark 
of  my  ownership  is  subject  to  your  demand — property,  health, 
life,  services — everything  will  answer  your  call.  You  have 
saved  my  fame  for  this  world,  but  that  is  the  least  of  all  the 
benefits  your  sacrifice  of  yourself  has  conferred  upon  me. 
You  have  saved  something  infinitely  better  for  me  than  a 
name.  For  you  have  saved  my  immortal  soul.  That  last 
humiliation  of  the  State  Prison  would  have  caused  me  to 
seek  death  by  my  own  hand.  I  shudder  to  think  of  the 
consequences  of  my  incarceration  there,'  and  then  he  wept 
again  as  if  he  was  a  child." 

"  And  what  did  Miss  Heron  say  ?  "  inquired  Mrs.  Balti 
more. 

"  She  didn't  talk  much,  ma'am — she  was  too  weak ;  but  her 
blue  eyes  looked  so  happy  at  him,  just  as  if  she  knew  she 
was  a  guardian  angel  who  had  just  saved  her  ward  from  the 
devil — that's  the  very  look  she  had,  ma'am,  so  sweet,  so  pure. 
Oh  !  I  do  think  she  is  so  lovely — don't  you  ?  " 

"  The  sweetest  blonde  I  have  ever  seen,"  responded  the 


368  STORMCLIFF. 

young  widow,  heartily.  "  But  is  she  not  changed  ?  Did 
not  her  imprisonment  affect  her  beauty  ?" 

"  Not  according  to  my  taste,  ma'am  :  she  is  much  thinner, 
but  she  looks  more  angelic.  I  think  she  will  gain  her  flesh 
again  soon.  She  has  improved,  I  think,  within  the  last  two 
or  three  months.  But  it  would  be  strange  indeed  if  she  did 
not  improve  when  she  has  such  attentions  from  him.' 

"  He  is  very  devoted  to  her,  is  he  ?" 

"  I  should  say  so,  ma'am.  He  seems  to  be  always  with 
her.  Scarcely  a  day  passes  that  I  do  not  see  him  walking 
with  her.  They  say  he  is  engaged  to  her;  but  you  know 
what  such  stories  amount  to  in  the  town." 

"It  would  be  an  eminently  proper  match,"  said  the  widow. 

"  I  think  so  myself,  Mrs.  Baltimore.  How  do  you  want 
this  trimming  put  on?  They're  wearing  it  up  and  down, 
that  way,  or  you  can  have  it  crossed  so;  both  ways  are 
worn.  Miss  Edgefield  has  one  dress  made  this  way,  and  the 
other  with  the  trimming  crossed.  They're  both  pretty  styles, 
I  think." 

"  I  don't  fancy  either  of  them.  Can't  you  loop  it  like  Mrs. 
Conda's  dress?  I  don't  fancy  Miss  Edgefield's  taste.  If 
there  is  a  chance  in  the  fashion-plates  to  adopt  a  trimming 
that  is  ugly,  she  is  sure  to  select  it.  Yes ;  loop  it  that  way. 
But  tell  me,  does  Mr.  Holden  intend  to  accompany  Miss 
Heron  and  her  father  to  Europe  this  fall  ?  They  are  going 
abroad  for  a  year :  and  I  heard  that  he  expected  to  go  with 
them." 

"  I  know  that  Tie  is  not  going,  Mrs.  Baltimore ;  for  I 
heard  him  distinctly  tell  Mr.  Heron  that  his  business  would 
prevent." 

"  Are  you  positive,  Annie  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  positive.  I  heard  him  say  that  his  duty  lay 
here  in  his  State.  He  is  going  out  on  a  great  electioneering 
tour  for  his  party  before  he  goes  back  to  Congress.  He  said 
his  ambition  and  his  duty  were  here,  and  he  was  going  to 
work  hard." 


STORHCLIFF.  309 

"Was  Miss  Heron  present?" 

"  She  was,  ma'am ;  but  she  didn't  utter  a  word  to  per 
suade  him,  though  her  father  seemed  very  anxious  that  Mr. 
Holden  should  go." 

Mrs.  Baltimore  took  up  a  book  carelessly  that  lay  open  on 
the  table,  and  seemed  for  several  minutes  deeply  engrossed 
in  its  pages.  She  soon  flung  it  aside,  however,  and  after  a 
reverie  of  a  few  seconds,  arose  suddenly  from  her  chair,  and 
left  the  room.  Passing  along  the  hall  of  the  front  building, 
she  met  Kate  Angier. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  Corlear  ?" 

"  Left  him  lounging  by  the  fountain  of  mermaids  while  I 
hunt  up  my  sketch-book  to  show  him.  He  has  visited  all  the 
places,  and  discourses  of  them  like  a  master." 

"  Do  you  like  him,  Kate  ?" 

"  Immensely — no,  that  term  is  improper :  he  thrills  me. 
If  you  don't  interpose,  I  may  love  him.  Use  your  position 
as  my  elder,  and  pronounce  upon  him.  May  I  properly  admit 
his  attentions  ? — always  provided  that  he  persists  in  keeping 
them  up." 

"I  know  of  no  reason  why  you  should  not.  He  is  a  gentle 
man,  and  I  believe  he  is  a  man  destined  to  win  legal  renown. 
You  know  he  is  to  argue  the  great  Reynolds  caste  against 
Mr.  Holden." 

"  Fiddlesticks !  what  is  legal  renown  in  these  days  when 
judges  buy  and  sell  their  decisions  like  shopkeepers?  Tell 
me  something  more  encouraging  about  Mr.  Corlear  than 
that." 

"  Well,  I  will.  He  can't  be  bought  and  sold,  if  judges 
can." 

"That  is  something,  to  be  sure.  I  didn't  think  as  deep 
as  that.  Good-bye ;  he  is  waiting  for  me.  I  always  thought 
I  should  like  to  write  my  last  name  with  a  capital  C.  I  am 
splendid  on  that  letter." 

"Will  you  be  ready  for  a  horseback  ride  this  evening, 
Kate  ?» 

16* 


3  TO  STOE3ICLIFF. 

"  Yes,  indeed !  I  want  to  try  my  incorruptible  friend  on 
horseback.  Where  do  you  propose  to  go  ?" 

"  To  a  new  place — away  up  in  the  hills — wild,  unknown, 
and  dangerous.  Will  you  go  ?" 

"  With  all  my  heart.     Good-bye." 

Mrs.  Baltimore  was  left  alone,  and  continued  on  her  way 
till  she  reached  the  garden.  Finding  the  sun  too  disagree 
able,  she  flung  her  handkerchief  over  her  head,  and  passed 
on  under  the  shrubbery.  She  walked  slowly  along  until  she 
reached  the  brook  of  the  glen.  Turning  sharply  to  her  right, 
she  followed  the  bank  of  the  stream  till  she  came  to  a  little 
temple  built  of  grey  marble.  It  was  situated  in  the  midst 
of  low  pines,  and  was  her  favorite  resort  in  warm  weather. 
She  kept  a  private  journal  concealed  in  one  of  the  fluted 
columns  which  supported  the  roof.  Removing  the  journal 
from  its  hiding-place,  she  sat  down  in  the  temple  on  a  pedes 
tal  which  had  yet  no  statue  and  reflected  for  awhile.  Then 
she  opened  the  book  and  scribbled  with  a  pencil  the  fol 
lowing  : 

"TEMPLE  GROVE,  July  27th. 

"Great  plans  are  impracticable — lack  vitality,  when  the 
heart  is  burdened.  If  the  Creator  intends  rapid  and  prompt 
action,  He  will  indicate  that  wish  by  deafening  the  roar  of 
memory  which  comes  to  my  ear  Eke  the  sea.  I  felt  this 
morning,  when  the  sun  looked  at  me  from  the  horizon,  that 
it  was  the  eye  of  my  God  inquiring  the  reason  of  my  delay  ; 
but  now  my  will  is  feeble,  and  I  yearn  for  a  coadjutor. 
Alas !  I  cannot  act  alone ;  the  law  of  my  being  calls  for 
sympathy.  I  appreciate  fully  the  perfection  of  my  own  plan. 
The  artists  all  confirm  my  taste ;  but  when  it  becomes  neces 
sary  to  pronounce  the  word  of  command,  'Begin,'  I  find 
myself  weary,  listless,  uncertain.  This  everlasting  roar  of 
the  Past  will  not  depart  from  me.  T  will  hope  in  spite  of 
myself.  I  will  believe  in  the  constancy  of  man's  love  until 
at  least  his  noble  form  is  frozen  by  the  destroyer.  He  did 
love  rue ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  his  great  passions  must  be 


STORMCLIFF.  371 

eternal.  If  he  would,  if  he  could  come  back  to  me,  how 
quickly  would  my  purpose  take  form  and  life  to  itself.  Ho 
would  appreciate  with  a  kingly  soul  this  work  of  charity. 
He  would  give  vitality  and  force  to  it.  But  alone — ah ! 
alone,  how  every  purpose  wearies  and  sickens  me!  After 
all  my  sublime  readings',  all  my  contemplation  of  great 
women,  how  forced  I  am  at  last  to  admit  that  I  am  a  woman 
powerless  in  the  grasp  of  Love.  I  study  and  stimulate  my 
self  by  great  thoughts ;  and  when  I  fancy  myself  strongest — 
equal  to  any  accomplishment — a  sudden  knock  at  my  heart 
tells  me  that  I  have  soared  above  my  destiny,  that  I  have  a 
woman's  tenderness ;  and  for  one  eager,  ardent  term  of  en 
dearment,  one  dear  word  of  love,  I  would  barter  my  estates, 
my  books,  my  plans,  and  become  the  creature  of  another's 
will.  And  ever  the  word  of  my  Heavenly  Father  seems  to 
whisper  to  me :  '  If  you  would  best  please  Me,  fulfil  a  wo 
man's  destiny :  respond  to  My  purpose  in  your  creation.' 

"  I  do  not,  I  cannot  believe  Clarence  Holden  loves  her.  It 
would  be  to  my  eternal  shame  to  deny  the  splendor  of  her 
character,  the  intensity  of  her  devotion  to  him.  But  what 
right  has  she  to  rob  me  of  all  that  makes  life  beautiful  ?  Can 
she  suffer  greater  loneliness,  greater  unrest  than  I  do  ? 
It  seems  that  in  all  matters  of  the  heart  nature  makes  us 
like  wolves  that  selfishly  and  fiercely  grasp,  unmindful  of  our 
companions.  But  I  cannot  pronounce  myself  superior  to  this 
same  nature.  I  can  deny  myself  food,  and  raiment,  and 
comfort,  when  it  is  necessary ;  but  to  admit  my  willingness 
to  relinquish  him  into  her  keeping,  I  cannot,  I  will  not  make 
the  acknowledgment.  He  is  too  dear  to  me.  Oh,  that  he 
knew  it ! 

"  Write  upon  my  tombstone  these  words :  '  She  would  have 
been  a  great  woman  had  not  God  given  her  a  heart? 

"I  will  try  dear  Nature  in  her  wildest  temple  to-day. 
Perhaps  'He  that  ordereth  all  things  well'  will  give  me  new 
life  in  the  mountains.  The  pure,  free  air  of  my  native  hills 
gives  to  my  physical  frame  freshness  and  elasticity.  It  may 


372  STORMCLIFF. 

be  that  it  will  afford   my  spirit  balm  and  freshness  too. 
Mould  me,  O  God !  to  Thine  adorable  will,  that  the  eternal 
home  may  gain  me  the  joy  which  is  denied  to  my  earthly  * 
habitation !" 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

The  setting  sun  lingered  behind  a  wall  of  clouds  of  salmon 
color  through  which,  in  spots,  a  dazzing  flame  of  scarlet  fire 
was  visible,  which  flung  upon  the  scenery  of  the  highlands 
the  startling  effect  of  a  great  conflagration.  The  hills  and 
the  river  shared  the  red  light  which  issued  from  these  western 
windows.  Even  the  sails  of  the  vessels  exhibited  the  fiery 
tinge.  High  on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  robed  in  summer 
foliage,  were  grouped  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
had  paused  hi  their  horseback  ride,  and  from  a  ledge  of  rocks 
in  their  narrow  bridle-path  were  enjoying  the  wild  vision  of 
the  monarch  Day  yielding  up  his  sceptre, 
the  wall  of  clouds  were  regular,  and  at  intervals: 
were  the  handiwork  of  some  great  master 
and  high  above  them  in  the  vault  of  heaven,  the  wandering 
patches  of  cloud  were  flecked  with  dashes  of  scarlet  fire.  So 
startling  a  vision  of  the  power  of  God  might  well  claim  the 
attention  of  any  human  being  capable  of  appreciation ;  but 
still  the  delay  required  to  study  it  well  was  hazardous  to  the 
safe  descent  of  the  mountain-path  by  the  riders.  They  had 
followed  the  guiding  will  of  Mrs.  Baltimore,  as  she  urged 
her  snow-white  steed  up  unfrequented  and  dangerous  bridle 
paths  where  constant  care  and  attention  were  demanded  to 
avoid  catastrophes.  And  the  ever-new  natural  beauties  she 
had  conducted  them  to  had  served  to  make  them  forgetful 
of  the  flight  of  time.  But  now  the  more  prudent  ones  urged 
an  immediate  descent  of  the  mountain  before  darkness  should 
have  gathered  upon  the  place. 

Mrs.  Baltimore,  after  one  more  lingering  glance  at  the  fire- 
windows,  assented  to  their  demand,  and  wheeling  Mirage 
away  from  the  cliff,  commenced  the  difficult  descent.  The 
sure-footed  beast  slowly  but  accurately  performed  his  duty, 


r  the  wild  vision  of 
;.     The  openings  in      / 
ntervals;  as  if  they    / 
Ler  in  architecture,,/ 


STOEMCLIFF.  373 

and  after  a  half-hour's  careful  riding,  the  whole  party  su©* 
ceeded  in  reaching  the  gorge,  between  two  mountains, 
through  which  their  more  level  path  now  led.  The  shadows 
of  the  mountains,  however,  rendered  this  path  by  no  means 
distinct  by  the  time  they  had  reached  it,  and  the  riders  were 
obliged  to  rely  partly  upon  the  instinct  of  their  horses  to 
carry  them  through  the  forest  in  safety.  They,  however, 
moved  along  cheerfully  conversing,  or  occasionally  breaking 
forth  into  a  song.  Mrs.  Baltimore  still  took  the  lead,  attend 
ed  by  Mr.  Charles  Delavan.  Kate  Angier  followed  with  her 
admirer,  Mr.  Corlear.  The  sky  above  them  now  rapidly 
lost  all  brilliancy  of  coloring,  and  presently  the  young  widow 
looking  up,  exclaimed : 

"  It  is  growing  dark  too  fast ;  the  hour  is  surely  not  so 
late  but  that  we  will  have  time  to  reach  the  open  country 
before  night-fall." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,  Mrs.  Baltimore,"  responded 
Charles  Delavan.  "But  what  in  the  name  of  goodness  can 
that  mean  ?  Look  up  there  to  your  right,  Mrs.  Baltimore  !" 

The  whole  party  glanced  upwards  through  the  trees  in  the 
indicated  direction,  and  beheld  a  cloud  of  intense  blackness 
sweeping  along  the  sky.  It  was  the  precursor  of  a  thunder 
storm  ;  and  while  they  looked,  the  pall  was  gathering  rapidly 
over  the  gorge.  The  dread  messenger  of  the  tempest  aroused 
the  party  at  once  to  the  consciousness  of  their  danger.  It 
would  soon  be  too  late  to  escape  from  the  forest.  The  storm 
would  certainly  block  up  their  way  with  the  blackness  of 
ink,  Grace  Baltimore,  with  an  exclamation  of  alarm,  urged 
Mirage  forward.  There  was  no  time  to  lose  in  idle  regrets. 
Their  love  of  the  sublime  had  probably  entailed  upon  them 
a  night  in  the  forest  under  the  beatings  of  a  drenching  storm. 
The  horses  bounded  ahead,  regardless  of  the  narrow  path 
between  the  trees,  and  had  just  emerged  into  an  opening  or 
glade  in  the  woods,  when  they  encountered  a  horseman 
rapidly  advancing  towards  them.  He  uttered  an  exclama 
tion  of  relief  when  he  recognised  Mrs.  Baltimore. 


374  STORMCLIFP. 

"  Why,  my  daughter !  This  is  fortunate,  indeed,  meeting 
you  at  this  spot.  The  biidge  behind  me  has  just  fallen  in — 
the  stone  bridge  at  the  pass — and  there  is  no  time  to  lose. 
Turn  right  back  on  your  course,  and  try  to  come  out  of  the 
woods  at  the  spur  of  the  mountain.  Great  God !  what  is 
that  ?" 

A  gleam  of  intense  brilliancy  seemed  to  leap  from  the 
mountain  above  their  heads,  and  immediately  followed  a 
report  of  heavy  thunder.  Nicholas  Traver  turned  ghastly 
pale.  A  thunder-storm  immediately  upon  such  a  sunset  was 
altogether  beyond  his  calculations,  and  startling.  He  recover 
ed  himself  sufficiently  to  induce  them  to  reverse  their  course 
at  once,  and  spurring  his  horse  past  his  daughter  and  her 
friends,  he  bade  them  all  follow  him  and  he  would  bring 
them  out  into  a  clearing  in  a  few  minutes.  Boldly  and 
splendidly  his  grey  stallion  took  the  lead  in  the  uncertain 
light.  The  rest  of  the  party,'  in  single  file,  flew  after  him,  in 
imminent  peril,  apparently,  of  dashing  eVery  minute  into 
some  forest  tree.  Soon  there  was  little  to  direct  the  course 
of  the  riders  except  the  dashing  of  hoofs  just  in  front  of 
them,  and  the  occasional  shout  of  their  bold  leader.  Occa 
sionally  a  steed  would  diverge  a  little  from  the  path,  and  the 
error  was  immediately  followed  by  a  sweep  of  branches  or 
twigs  violently  across  the  face  or  form  of  the  rider.  No 
one,  however,  was  unseated ;  and  the  horses,  given  free 
rein,  clung  closely  to  each  other,  and  dashed  recklessly  on. 
Presently,  Nicholas  Traver  shouted  at  the  top  of  his 
lungs :  .  , , 

"  Hold  up  here ! — stop !"  And  instantly  his  stallion  was 
flung  back  upon  his  haunches,  and  the  foremost  rider,  a  lady, 
was  nearly  precipitated  over  the  leader.  The  party  was 
brought  violently  to  a  dead  halt. 

"There  is  a  diverging  path  just  about  here  ;  it  leads  up 
over  a  ledge  of  rocks.  Whether  it  is  the  right  path  for  me 
to  take  I  am  uncertain.  Wait  here  till  I  feel  my  way  up  the 
ascent.  I  will  be  able  in  a  few  rods  to  identify  the  place. 


STOKMCLIFF.  375 

We  must  rise  to  our  right  a  little,  and  I  am  not  quite  sure  of 
the  locality.  This  may  be  the  place ;  wait  for  me." 

A  gust  of  wind  which  bent  the  trees  swept  over  the  gorge 
and  drowned  his  voice.  But  the  party  heard  his  horse  break 
ing  through  the  bushes  on  their  right.  A  wilder  rush  of 
the  wind  passed  over  them,  and  a  blinding  flash  of  lightning 
penetrated  the  forest  darkness  and  shivered  a  tree  between 
the  party  and  the  rider  who  had  left  them.  When  the  con 
cussion  had  left  them  in  bewilderment  and  darkness,  they 
heard  a  yell  of  command  given  by  Nicholas  Traver.  It  was 
evidently  unheeded  by  the  stallion,  for  immediately  the 
sounds  of  hoofs  pattering  and  clattering  among  the  rocks 
above  them  on  the  right  were  heard.  Another  yell,  which 
appeared  to  be  blended  with  mortal  terror,  was  followed  by 
a  shower  of  sparks,  which  scintillated  forth  into  the  darkness, 
and  then  the  rapid  beat  of  the  hoofs  appeared  to  follow 
around  the  side  of  the  mountain  in  the  impenetrable  gloom. 
Soon  the  sounds  died  away,  and  were  replaced  by  the  crash 
of  the  lightning  which  fell  again  into  the  forest,  and  the 
yells  and  moans  of  the  storm,  which  burst  over  the  gorge  in 
intense  fury.  The  riders  huddled  together  in  uncertainty 
and  terror,  while  the  rain  poured  down  upon  their  unshel 
tered  forms  in  torrents.  Mrs.  Baltimore,  after  a  moment's 
silence,  exclaimed :  "  Follow  me,  and  see  if  we  can't  find  our 
way  out.  His  horse  has  run  away  with  him,  and  will  likely 
come  out  at  the  end  of  the  mountain  spur." 

There  was  no  choice  left  for  them,  and  they  walked  their 
horses  slowly  after  her  in  the  darkness.  In  a  few  minutes — 
so  few,  that  it  seemed  like  a  special  mark  of  God's  favor — 
they  emerged  from  the  trees  into  the  open  country,  and  into 
the  full  blast  of  the  wind,  which  hurled  the  rain-torrents  be 
fore  it.  At  that  instant  they  heard  the  yell  of  Nicholas 
Traver  again,  and  directly  in  front  of  them.  The  stallion 
was  crossing  their  very  path.  A  bolt  of  intense  brilliancy 
from  the  clouds  passed  near  the  flying  steed,  and  for  an  in 
stant  horse  and  rider  were  visible.  Then  followed  the  blood- 


3*76  STOBMCLIFF. 

curdling  cry  of  terror  again ;  and  immediately  another  bolt 
from  the  anger  of  heaven  hurled  horse  and  rider  a  crushed 
mass  at  the  feet  of  Grace  Baltimore's  Mirage. 

In  the  awful  madness  and  rush  of  the  storm  the  party  hud 
dled  about  the  victim.  No  sound  from  the  proud,  beautiful 
leader  met  their  ears.  No  motion,  no  convulsive  struggle, 
came  from  the  lifeless  steed,  once  so  gloriously  plunging  with 
fire  and  spirit,  and  the  admiration  of  the  county.  Retribu 
tion  had  corne  unexpectedly,  and  the  destroyer  of  innocence 
had  been  hurled  in  God's  anger  to  the  mother  earth  which 
he  had  dishonored.  Gifted,  beautiful,  graceful,  born  almost 
an  ideal  image  of  man,  that  he  might  by  his  conspicuous 
beauty  and  splendor  with  greater  effectiveness  and  power 
guide  mortals  in  the  paths  of  honor  and  'truth,  he  was  lying 
now  a  crushed  mass — a  monument  of  the  accuracy  of  the 
Eternal's  word.  In  vain  did  the  agonized  daughter  dis 
mount  and  kneel  over  him.  He  had  never  been  to  her  an 
iipright,  true,  noble  father.  Of  her  own  choice  she  had 
turned  to  God ;  and  Nicholas  Traver  had  no  part  or  merit 
in  leading  her  to  the  feet  of  her  Lord. 

Carry  him  out.  It  is  better  that  she,  the  innocent,  should 
be  parted  from  him.  This  is  the  judgment  of  men.  But 
hark !  While  the  storm  is  gathering  and  the  messengers  of 
wrath  are  preparing  the  bolts  of  heaven,  a  controversy  has 
arisen  before  the  great  white  throne.  The  Holy  of  Holies 
is  veiled  in  ineffable  splendor,  and  before  the  Mercy-Seat  the 
angels  of  Justice  and  Mercy  are  contending.  The  incompa 
rable  privilege  of  debate  is  exercised  by  the  intellects  of  the 
immortals.  Around  the  disputants  are  congregated  myriads 
of  ethereal  beings,  white-winged  and  beautiful,  and  eagerly 
listening. 

Angel  of  Justice. — Thy  words,  O  God !  are  unchangeable, 
and  Thy  wisdom  fixed  and  immovable.  Only  the  pure  and 
the  upright  can  appreciate  an-d  enjoy  the  bliss  of  Heaven. 
This  man  has  added  impiety  and  scorn  of  Thee  to  his  sin, 
and  revelled  in  the  defiance  which  springs  from  the  intellect. 


STOKMCLIFF.  377 

• 

To  blast  him  before  the  eyes  of  his  fellows  will  establish  Thy 
word,  and  mortals  will  learn  to  fear  Thee  and  Thy  threaten- 
ings.  I  demand  in  the  interest  of  Justice  that  he  remain  no 
longer  unpunished,  and  that  the  angel  of  the  storm  smite 
him  to  the  depths  of  perdition. 

Angel  of  Mercy. — Spare  him,  O  God  of  mercy,  yet  a  little 
longer!  The  soul  most  dyed  in  sin  and  corruption  has  often 
arisen  under  the  beams  of  Thy  mercy  to  be  a  star  in  Thy 
service.  Forget  not  this,  I  entreat  Thee,  and  direct  the  bolts 
of  vengeance  to  pass  him  by,  that  so  much  beauty  of  body 
and  mind  may  be  withheld  from  Satan,  and  may  learn  to 
/become  one  of  the  jewels  in  Thy  crown  of  glory.  Spare  him ! 
oh,  spare  him  a  little  longer ! 

Silence  remained  in  the  ineffable  splendor  which  wreathed 
the  Great  White  Throne,  and  the  adoring  angels  veiled  their 
faces  at  the  majesty  of  Eternal  Thought ;  and  the  unceasing 
harmonies  of  heaven  went  On.  And  lo !  a  child  of  exquisite 
loveliness  and  winged  grace  fluttered  in  between  the  expec 
tant  angels,  and  kneeled  in  adoration  before  the  Throne.  In 
her  tiny  hands  was  a  harp,  and  in  her  bosom  the  beautiful 
memento  of  her  earth-life — a  white  lily.  And,  raising  her 
sweet  voice  in  prayer,  she  said : 

"  Little  Zoe  pleads  for  his  soul  in  the  name  which  thrills 
the  court  of  Heaven ;  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  whose  adorable 
name  shall  never  be  pleaded  here  in  vain." 

A  thrill  of  melody  gushed  forth  upon  the  silence.  The 
prayer  of  the  child  was  heard ;  and,  at  the  edict  of  God,  the 
angels  of  Justice  and  Mercy  flew  away  to  attend  the  Spirit 
of  the  gathering  storm.  When  the  bolt  of  vengeance  was 
aimed  at  the  head  of  the  flying  horseman,  Mercy  raised  her 
hand,  and  the  lightning  was  diverted  to  his  side.  Senseless 
and  paralysed  for  life,  he  fell  to  the  earth  with  his  blackened 
steed.  He  was  suffered  to  live  a  helpless  being,  shattered, 
attended  by  his  daughter,  and  learning  from  her  lips  to  lisp 
the  name  of  Jesus  which  had  saved  his  soul. 


378  STOKMCLIFF. 

• 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

IT  was  the  hour  of  midnight,  and  the  full  moon  silvered  the 
edges  of  the  garden  shrubbery.  Summer  was  preparing  to 
leave  the  sceptre  to  the  autumnal  king,  and  the  moon  seemed 
bent  on  offering  her  most  radiant  tribute  to  her  warm  friend 
of  ripening  and  rosy  memory  who  was  passing  away  for  ever. 
To  a  lonely  and  desolate  heart  no  change  comes  so  seriously 
as  the  death  of  the  seasons.  The  contemplation  of  their 
beauties  becomes  a  habit,  and  as  they  are  passing  away,  the 
heart  begins  to  realize  a  sense  of  loss :  something  is  leaving 
us  which  has  contributed  to  our  happiness  or  temporary  con 
tentment.  That  which  is  to  come  will  be  a  stranger ;  that 
which  is  passing  away  has  become  familiar ;  its  birds  or  its 
skies  will  be  no  longer.  Such  were  the  meditations  of  Mrs. 
Baltimore  as  she  left  her  helpless  invalid  father  sleeping,  and 
wandered  out  alone  in  the  garden.  So  dreamily  thinking, 
so  noiselessly  walking,  was  the  young  widow  as  she  passed 
along  the  silent  garden,  that  her  presence  was  undetected  by 
a  man  who  was  carefully  stealing  along  a  path  parallel  to 
the  one  she  was  treading.  At  length  his  person  came  in 
contact  with  a  shrub  which  hung  neglected  across  his  way, 
and  immediately  there  fell  upon  her  startled  ear  the  twang 
of  a  musical  chord.  She  paused  at  once  in  surprise,  for 
certainly  all  the  inmates  of  her  house  were  soundly  sleeping 
by  that  lone  hour.  She  turned  quickly  around,  and  saw  the 
man  moving  on  towards  the  dwelling.  The  familiar  note  of 
a  musical  instrument  which  she  loved  suggested  no  thought 
of  fear,  and  her  curiosity  prompted  her  to  follow  after  the 
intruder  on  her  premises.  Who  was  the  strange  musician, 
and  wThat  could  he  be  doing  so  far  from  the  highway  at  that 
late  hour?  Cautiously  she  moved  on  after  him  along  the 
parallel  path.  He  seemed  to  be  unconscious  of  any  human 
life  in  the  garden,  for  he  held  on  his  way ;  and  presently  she 
saw  him  pause  directly  under  the  window  of  her  sleeping 
apartment. 


STOKHCLIFF.  379 

• 

She  approached  him  very  closely  under  cover  of  the  shrub 
bery,  and  peeping  through  the  leaves  of  a  grape  arbor,  saw 
him  raise  something  up  to  the  moonlight.  As  he  turned  to 
look  around  the  garden,  she  discovered  that  it  was  a  guitar, 
and  at  the  same  instant  the  moonbeams  revealed  his  features. 
She  trembled  violently  at  recognising  the  face  of  the  man 
who  haunted  her  dreams.  It  was  Clarence  Holden.  No 
doubt  he  had  come  to  indulge  his  fancy  and  his  fine  voice 
in  a  midnight  serenade.  She  had  heard  of  his  eiforts  in  this 
department  of  romance  before.  Could  it  be  within  the  range 
of  possibilities  that  he  had  come  to  sing  to  her  after  all  the 
unfortunate  error  of  the  past  ?  Had  he  forgiven  her  for  re 
fusing  him,  and  was  he  so  much  in  earnest  that  he  had  tram 
pled  down  his  pride,  to  come  again  after  such  a  long  lapse  of 
time  ?  What,  in  the  name  of  a  trembling  and  truthful  heart, 
conld  be  the  motive  of  this  musical  visit  from  the  pride  of 
the  county — the  noble,  upright  orator  of  the  highlands  ? 

Eagerly  she  parted  the  grape-leaves  and  watched  his 
movements.  He  examined  the  guitar  carefully,  and  then, 
without  touching  the  chords,  laid  it  down  upon  the  grass 
under  her  window.  He  stood  with  his  arms  folded  looking 
up  at  the  moon.  She  dared  not  move,  she  was  so  close  to 
him.  His  face  was  sad,  inexpressibly  sad.  What  could  he 
be  studying  so  deeply  ?  He  was  evidently  undecided,  for  he 
took  up  the  guitar  as  if  he  would  play,  and  then  la'id  it  down 
again  upon  the  grass,  and  walked  back  and  forth.  Some 
powerful  emotion  was  holding  the  music  in  check.  Her 
heart  whispered  to  her  that  it  was  pride.  "  He  is  a  Balti 
more — that  dreadful  pride,  that  unyielding  Baltimore  pride 
is  holding  him  back.  Oh,  my  God  !  will  he  go  away  silently 
after  all."  She  pressed  her  hand  upon  her  palpitating  heart. 
It  seemed  ready  to  burst  with  anguish.  If  his  pride  should 
drive  him  away  now,  probably  he  would  never  come  again. 
No  doubt  he  had  come  there  under  a  burning  impulse.  He 
•was  realizing  how  weak  he  was  to  seek  again  a  woman  who 
had  rejected  him.  In  a  few  seconds  more,  pride  would  gain 


380  STORM  CLIFF. 

the  entire  mastery  of  him,  and  he  would  walk  away,  and  her 
heart  would  break.  How  utterly  unconscious  he  was  of  the 
eager  heart  which  was  burning  with  passion  for  him — which 
was  reaching  forth  to  him  in  agony,  yearning  to  be  clasped 
and  pressed  to  his  own. 

He  stooped  suddenly,  and  raised  the  guitar  from  the  grass. 
What  would,  he  do  this  time  ?  Alas !  her  heart  anticipated 
his  movement.  He  cautiously  loosened  all  the  strings^  and 
prepared  the  instrument  to  be  put  away  in  its  case  for  the 
night.  Break,  weary,  desolate  heart  of  woman,  for  pride  is 
stronger  than  love.  The  hope  which  had  arisen  so  suddenly 
fell  like  a  meteor  from  heaven.  Like  the  leaf  of  the  dying 
flower  which  flutters  silently  to  the  earth,  did  the  white- 
robed  figure  of  Grace  Baltimore  drop  to  her  knees  in  prayer 
to  the  God  who  had  given  her  heart  its  mission  on  earth. 
Her  lip  was  quivering,  her  bosom  rising  and  falling,  as  she 
whispered :  "  I  ask  of  Thee,  O  my  God1,  to  make  me  sub 
missive  to  Thy  holy  will.  Though  my  heart  should  break, 
I  will  trust  and  praise  Thee  for  ever." 

Her  head  had  fallen,  with  its  glorious  crown  of  woman 
hood,  against  a  bar  of  the  grape  arbor,  and  a  faintness  as  of 
death  overcame  her  for  an  instant ;  and  in  that  instant  the 
wise  Ruler  of  all  things  put  forth  His  retarding  hand  to  the 
arrow  of  fate.  Hush !  beating  heart.  A  whisper  of  melody, 
so  faint  and  exquisite  that  it  might  be  the  music  of  a  dream, 
breathed  forth  upon  the  moonlight.  He  was  calling  to  her 
in  that  subdued  melody.  It  was  no  twang  of  the  guitar  she 
heard,  but  a  low,  sweet  harmony — a  memory,  an  old  hope, 
breathed  from  a  sweeter  instrument,  a  heaven-born  instru 
ment,  a  soothing,  dreamy  flute.  It  had  been  his  favorite 
medium  of  sweet  sound  in  the  past.  It  had  been  her  favorite 
too ;  and  now  he  had  chosen  it  to  wake  the  lady  of  his  heart 
from  her  sleep.  In  the  past,  the  dear  old  past,  they  had  ** 
sung  that  hope  in  unison.  He  knew  that  she  would  recog 
nise  the  tune,  and  trusted  a  face  at  the  window  would 
reward  his  melody.  The  gentle,  dreamlike  melody  quivered 


STOBMCLIFF.  381 

out  upon  the  moonlight — swelling,  fainting,  dying,  and  theu 
all  was  silence  again.  Raising  her  head  from  the  grape 
arbor,  she  saw  that  he  was  silently  looking  up  at  her  room. 
No  rattle  of  the  shutter — no  sound  at  the  window  met  his 
ear.  She  heard  a  sigh  distinct,  and  to  her  woman's  heart 
full  of  rapture.  "  He  loves  me  yet.  I  knew  it." 

He  waited  a  moment  longer,  aftd  then  hearing  no  sound 
to  encourage  him,  he  commenced  to  pace  back  and  forth  on 
the  grass-plat.  Would  he  be  discouraged  and  discontinue 
the  music  ?  Would  he  walk  away  and  make  no  further 
effort  to  attract  her  attention  ?  Her  woman's  instinct  told 
her  that  now  she  had  a  right  to  recognise  the  compliment  of 
the  music  at  any  time,  or  in  any  manner  she  pleased.  She 
might  even  acknowledge  it  by  note,  if  she  were  so  dis 
posed,  for  he  had  made  advances  to  her  now.  But  the 
flute  commenced  its  sweet  repinings  again,  and  she  bowed 
her  head  to  listen.  ,  Ah  !  dear,  precious  memory,  how  faithful 
was  it  now.  She  recognised  the  love-song  which  he  had 
once  declared  should  be  his  declaration  of  love  whenever 
his  heart  should  be  touched  by  woman's  influence.  The  flute 
whispered  the  love  which  possessed  him,  and  the  true  heart 
concealed  behind  the  grape-leaves  filled  and  trembled  with 
rapture : 

'  I  wake  from  dreams  of  thee ; 
And  a  spirit  in  my  feet 
Has  led  me,  who  knows  how, 
To  thy  chamber  window  sweet. 

Oh!  lift  me  from  the  grass, 
I  die,  I  faint,  I  fail : 
Let  thy  love  in  kisses  rain 
On  my  lips  and  eyelids  pale. 

My  cheek  is   cold  and  white; 
Alas!  my  heart  beats  loud  and  fast: 
Oh !  press  it  close  to  thine  again, 
Where  it  must  break  at  last." 


382  STOKMCLIFF. 

The  musician  paused  again  and  looked  up  at  the  window, 
No  recognition  came  from  Mrs.  Baltimore's  room. 

"  Am  I  despised  ?"  he  muttered  at  last,  never  imagining 
the  possibility  of  his  being  overheard  at  that  distance. 

"  The  noble  and  the  true  are  never  despised  by  a  woman," 
was  the  startling  response  behind  him. 

He  looked  bewildered  at  the  extraordinary  direction  from 
which  the  sound  came.  Then  he  said  aloud : 

"  That  is  the  voice  which  of  all  others  has  power  to  influ 
ence  and  rule  my  heart.  But  whence  does  it  come  ?  Is  it 
an  echo  from  the  invisible  land  ?" 

Perfect  silence  followed  this  inquiry,  and  he  passed 
around  to  the  rear  of  the  grape  arbor.  The  figure  of 
the  young  widow  arose  before  him  with  the  majesty  and  the 
robe  of  an  angel,  the  moonlight  full  in  her  face,  and  her  dark 
eyelashes  veiling  the  tears  which  clung  there  ready  to 
fall. 

"  Mrs.  Baltimore,  I  came  here  to  surprise  you,  and  you 
have  given  me  the  greater  surprise." 

"  No,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  You  have  indeed  surprised  me 
more.  How  could  you  ask  if  I  despised  you?  Was  our 
former  intercourse  no  guaranty  that  you  never  could  be  held 
in  aught  but  honor  ?" 

"  And  yet,"  he  exclaimed,  "  you  were  shocked  at  my 
avowal  in  this  garden." 

"  Mr.  Holden,  you  never  made  an  avowal  to  me  in  this 
garden,"  was  the  calm  response. 

"  Then  I  am  a  dreamer,  and  unworthy  the  respect  of  men 
of  sense  ;  still  do  I  assert  that  in  this  garden  I  told  you  how 
dear  you  were  to  me  ;  that  you  had  become  the  light  and  the 
hope  of  my  existence,  and  that  I  craved  a  return  of  my  love 
as  the  greatest  boon  I  could  ever  receive  in  life." 

"  Mr.  Holden,  your  declaration  was  made  to  a  mask." 

"  Aye !  and  that  mask  was  none  other  than  Mrs.  Grace 
Baltimore,"  was  the  firm  response. 

"  It  was  not  Grace  Baltimore,  Mr.  Holden.     Had  it  been 


STORMCLIFF.  383 

that  lady,  you  would  never  have  neglected,  or  rather  shunned 
one  who  has  cherished  you  above  all  others." 

"  And  why  not  ?" 

She  made  no  response,  and  looked  down.  Clarence  Holden 
felt  a  thrill  of  hope  dart  through  him  at  her  words  : 

"  You  mean  that  you  would  not  have  rejected  me  ?" 

The  single  word  which  came  in  reply  was  scarcely  audible. 
But  it  broke  the  floodgates  of  his  heart.  It  was  enough. 

o  o 

He  clasped  both  arms  about  her  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 
"  Look  up  at  me,  Grace.     Do  you  love  me  ?" 
Those  dark  eyes,  so  often  veiled,  so  lustrous,  so  beautiful, 

obeyed  his  request ;  and  in  them  he  read  the  passion  of  a 

great  woman's  love. 

"  I  claim  you  for  my  wife,  Grace — my  own  darling  one." 
A  smile  of  unutterable  bliss  was  the  only  answer ;  and  her 

head  fell  again  to  the  support  of  his  manly  breast. 

"  One  more  evidence,  Grace,  and  I  shall  be  the  happiest 

man  in  existence." 

She  looked  up  at  him  in  surprise.     But  it  was  only  love's 

artifice  to  secure  that  passionate  kiss  which  is  the  offering  of 

a  woman's  first  and  only  love. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

Miss  Louise  Stanford,  from  long  experience,  had  attained 
the  reputation  of  being  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  de 
tails  of  family  life  in  all  the  principal  households  of  the 
town.  The  philanthropic  motives  which  induced  this  aged 
damsel  to  familiarize  herself  with  the  domestic  affairs  of  her 
.neighbors  were  denied  by  many  of  her  contemporaries.  But 
the  ill-nature  of  those  who  doubted  these  motives  was  plainly 
manifest,  from  the  fact  that  they  were  the  very  first  to  recog 
nise  the  importance  of  her  daily  bulletin,  and  never  allowed 
themselves  to  find  fault  with  her  tongue  until  her  bulletin, 
collected  at  so  much  sacrifice  of  shoe-leather,  had  been  trans 
ferred  to  their  own  minutes.  They  always  gave  her  credit 
for  the  evil  stories  told  of  her  neighbors,  but  were  sure  to 
ignore  her  tales  of  commendation,  collected  at  great  sacri- 


384  STORMCLIFF. 

fice  of  time  and  perseverance.  Slander  her  as  they  migV  t 
the  town  was  under  obligations  to  Miss  Stanford  for  consent 
ing  to  act  as  an  irregular  annalist  of  families  and  individuals. 
Half  the  pleasure  of  living  in  the  town  would  have  been 
destroyed  by  the  loss  of  the  information  which  she  contri 
buted  to  the  common  fund. 

For  instance,  she  was  the  first  to  announce  the  departure 
of  the  Rev.  Charles  Heron  and  his  daughter  to  Europe.  She 
was  the  first  to  ascertain  that  Marie  was  induced  to  take  the 
trip  by  her  father,  who  desired  her  to  forget  the  existence 
of  Clarence  Holden.  She,  too,  first  announced  thk  details 
of  the  bridal  wardrobes  of  Mrs.  Grace  Holden  and  Mrs. 
Kate  Corlear,  who  were  married  on  the  same  day  and  by 
the  same  clergyman,  and  went  off  together  on  the  same  bri 
dal  tour.  The  grief  of  Mr.  Charles  Delavan  at  the  widow's 
marriage  was  also  the  product  of  her  mental  garden.  She, 
too,  published  the  account  of  the  disagreements  between 
old  Nora  and  her  grandson's  wife,  and  maintained  stoutly 
that  notwithstanding  all  amicable  appearances,  the  old  nurse 
was  nourishing  a  slumbering  fire,  which  would  ere  long 
burst  forth  into  a  great  family  conflagration  among  the  Bal- 
timores.  She  knew  it  was  there,  even  if  the  public  were 
unable  at  present  to  detect  it.  She  discovered  also,  in  the 
course  of  time,  that  an  heir  was  born  to  inherit  the  joint 
estates  of  Holden  and  Baltimore.  Its  eyes  and  mouth  were 
described  with  great  accuracy  to  the  curious  in  those  mat 
ters,  though  some  evil-disposed  young  man  did  assert  that 
Miss  Stanford  was  a  little  too  fast  in  her  chronology,  and 
that  the  Holden  baby's  mouth  was  small  and  delicate.  But 
these  apparent  discrepancies  in  the  female  annalist  must  be 
overlooked  in  consideration  of  the  valuable  services  rendered 
to  the  cause  of  general  information  by  her  researches. 

But  one  interesting  fact  was  distinctly  traceable  to  Miss 
Louise  Stanford's  authority.  She  discovered  it  first,  and 
of  course  had  a  perfect  right  to  embellish  it  properly  for 
the  conversational  market.  She  had  ever  cherished  a  firm 


STOEMCLIFF.  385 

conviction  that  Nora  Rudd  was  in  frequent  communication 
with  the  potentate  of  the  fiery  realm.  How  else  could  the 
old  lady  fall  into  trances  and  predict  so  accurately  of  the  fu 
ture  ?  Of  course  the  prophets  who  lived  near  to  God  were 
capable  of  doing  such  things,  without  securing  to  themselves 
a  reputation  of  being  friends  of  his  caloric  majesty ;  but  it 
was  beyond  the  bounds  of  all  reason  that  an  old  lady,  whc 
lived  in  the  constant  exercise  of  prayer,  and  Bible  reading, 
and  works  of  charity,  could  fall  into  trances  and  predict  the 
future,  without  being  either  a  hypocrite,  an  illusionist,  or  a 
tool  of  the  lower  regions.  Miss  Stanford  was  satisfied  of  this 
fact ;  and  once  upon  a  time  she  made  a  discovery  which  con 
firmed  her  orthodox  views. 

She  happened  to  be  passing  the  neglected  house  of  old 
Nora  one  morning,  and  to  her  surprise  she  saw  the  old  lady 
enter  the  tenement  with  a  bundle  in  her  arms.  "What  could 
she  do  with  a  bundle  in  an  old  vacant  dwelling  like  that? 
The  inquiry  was  repeated  in  her  mind :  it  demanded  investi 
gation.  She  walked  back  and  forth  at  a  distance,  but  keep 
ing  her  eyes  upon  the  door,  where  the  old  lady  had  gone  in. 
She  tarried  long  in  the  neighborhood,  but  the  door  of  the 
little  house  remained  closed.  The  shutters  had  not  been 
opened.  All  was  silent  about  the  premises  as  the  grave. 
Growing  weary  at  length  with  walking  and  standing,  she  sat 
down  upon  a  door-step.  She  remained  seated  more  than  an 
hour.  No  Nora  appeared;  no  sign  of  life  was  manifest 
about  the  house.  Then  arising  from  the  door-step,  she  rang 
the  bell  of  the  house  behind  her,  and  concluded  to  make  a 
brief  visit  to  an  acquaintance,  whose  sitting-room  looked  out 
upon  the  street.  Her  friend  welcomed  her,  and  in  time  she 
contrived  to  secure  a  seat  near  a  window  which  overlooked 
Nora's  little  house.  The  same  silence  and  absence  of  life 
was  manifest  across  the  street.  She  informed  her  friend, 
finally,  that  Nora  had  disappeared  through  the  door  with  a 
bundle,  and  requested  that  she  would  keep  a  look-out  for  her 
reappearance,  as  she  deemed  the  matter  very  strange.  Her 

IT 


386  STOKMCLIFF.     • 

friend  promised  to  aid  her  in  her  laudable  watch,  and  when 
at  last  Miss  Stanford  was  forced  to  leave  for  home  by  the 
approach  of  night,  this  friend  had  become  as  curious  regarding 
Nora's  disappearance  in  the  cottage  as  herself.  She  pro 
mised  to  sit  up  all  night  and  keep  a  starlight  watch  upon  the 
door.  Miss  Stanford  returned  on  the  ensuing  morning,  and 
to  her  amazement  it  was  reported  that  Nora  had  not  yet 
come  out  of  that  house.  The  two  watchers  were  now  tho 
roughly  excited,  and  maintained  a  vigilant  watch  the  entire 
day,  without  their  eyes  being  once  rewarded  by  any  sign  of 
life  on  those  premises.  They  had  surely  something  tangible 
now  to  report  of  Nora's  secret  consultations  with  the  devil. 
This  little  house  was  no  doubt  one  of  the  satanic  stations 
while  the  Prince  of  darkness  was  traversing  the  earth.  In  a 
day  or  two  more  the  whole  town  was  startled  by  a  report 
that  Clarence  Holden's  grandmother  was  lost,  and  no  trace 
of  her  could  be  found.  Miss  Louise  Stanford  immediately 
became  a  lioness.  She  knew  all  about  it.  The  old  lady  had 
given  the  devil  a  reception  in  the  little  house,  and  no  doubt 
the  power  of  the  Evil  One  was  holding  her  still  a  captive 
there.  Her  report  gathered  a  great  crowd  about  the  place ; 
and  when  Clarence  Holden  made  his  appearance  in  great 
anxiety  before  the  door  to  burst  it  in,  the  excitement  was 
at  its  height.  Upon  entering  the  house,  the  crowd,  to  their 
great  disappointment,  ascertained  that  Nora  was  not  there. 
What  had  become  of  her?  Miss  Stanford  made  her  way 
to  Clarence  Holden's  side  and  gave  him  her  facts.  He 
immediately  ordered  the  people  out  into  the  street;  and 
locking  the  door  behind  him,  went  along  with  them  to  the 
newspaper  office  and  caused  an  advertisement  to  be  inserted, 
offering  for  the  discovery  of  his  grandmother  a  large  reward. 
He  did  this  as  a  mere  blind,  and  to  draw  the  crowd  away 
from  the  house.  He  suspected  where  the  old  lady  had  gone, 
and  waited  his  opportunity  to  follow  her  up  unnoticed. 

Days,  weeks,  months  glided  by,  and  still  no  tidings  arrived 
of  the  lost  nurse.     Years  rolled  on,  and  the  name  of  Nora 


STORMCLIPF.  387 

Rudd  became  a  type  of  mystery,  of  terror,  and  of  supersti 
tion  to  the  dwellers  in  the  highlands.  Her  life  had  been  re 
plete  with  strangeness  and  with  accurate  prophecies.  The 
general  impression  regarding  her  was  that  she  had  been 
spirited  away  by  the  devil. 

But  another  class  of  minds,  not  so  easily  diverted  from  the 
remembrance  of  her  Christian  virtues  and  her  unceasing 
charity,  were  disposed  to  give  credence  to  the  story  that  old 
Nora  received  a  Christian  burial,  though  at  a  strange  point 
high  ampng  the  mountains,  where  no  trees  grow  and  no  im 
pediment  is  offered  to  the  rush  of  the  wild  winds  as  they 
howl  and  moan  in  the  winter,  or  sigh  and  murmur  in  the 
summer-time,  over  her  sleeping  dust.  A  rumor  in  the  high 
lands  has  it  that  the  tall  dark  prophetess  sleeps  in  a  tomb 
hollowed  out  of  the  solid  rock  which  hangs  threateningly 
over  the  Hudson,  and  at  the  very  spot  that  she  was  found 
dead,  kneeling  in  prayer  to  God,  with  her  Bible  and  her 
steel-pointed  staff  lying  beside  her.  It  is  said,  too,  that  the 
descendants  of  the  Baltimore  family  have  a  secret  custom, 
when  a  male  heir  is  born  to  their  estates,  to  send  him  with 
his  nurse  by  a  subterranean  way  to  the  very  summit  of  a 
frowning  cliff,  and  there  devote  him  to  the  service  of  the 
God  of  Heaven.  Then  and  there,  it  is  said,  the  spirit  of  the 
old  prophetess  is  permitted  to  whisper  in  the  ears  of  the 
child  language  sublime  and  beautiful,  and  which  possesses 
the  strange  power  of  filling  the  soul  with  grand  and  glorious 
images  of  true  greatness.  It  is  said  the  spirit  of  oratory  is 
then  and  there  born ;  and  that  the  mightiest  eloquence  of  the 
highlands  can  be  traced,  through  the  Baltimore  family,  to 
this  early  dedication  to  God  on  the  wild  and  lofty  height  of 
Stormcliff. 

THE    END. 


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